Wisdom in Shadow
by DarkWynn
Summary: After the Holy Orders condemn a man for helping monsters, a young Inquisitor must make a dangerous choice to either follow orders or risk his own future to save a monster's life. Meanwhile, dark secrets loom from a mountaintop monastery... Features a kobold and a lich primarily, with other supporting monstergirls. Explicit content.
1. Pyre

_**Preface:**_ _Greetings, all! This story is the sequel to "Not Alone," itself a successor to "What You Don't Know," both also located on this site, although each features a mostly-different cast of characters. Like its predecessor, this story is slightly dark at times, especially in the first chapter. As always, though, I intend a happy ending. The main monstergirls in this work are a kobold and a lich, although several other monstergirls play significant roles. Be warned that there is sexual content in this story, more than the previous tale._

 _And, to conclude with a standard disclaimer: The monster girls featured in this tale, and many elements of the setting, are based off of the works of Kenkou Cross, and as such this work is intended to be a tribute to his creativity. The characters, however, are my own. Pray neither sue nor steal; I have very little to take, but I love that which is mine._

 **Wisdom in Shadow**

The old priest died at dawn.

The people of Videre gathered at the town square, called from their beds by the brazen horns of the mercenaries that had ridden into town the previous day. They stumbled from their homes like the undead, their uneven gaits stemming less from slumber than from dread. They all knew what they were being called upon to witness, and that knowledge dimmed the rays that were only just beginning to peak above the eastern mountains.

As they clustered around the edges of that plaza, few of them had the heart to look upon the four men standing at the center of the clearing, illuminated by the torches held by the five grim-faced mercenaries that were spaced around them. Those scarred soldiers looked out at the crowd, each with one hand near the sweat-stained grip of their weapons, as if they expected any of the unarmed and timid villagers to stage a daring rescue attempt. Instead, the townsfolk refused to meet their steely gazes, preferring to study the cobblestones than the stone-faced killers. None of them, especially, had the heart to look at the towering wooden pole that stood upon a wooden base, heaps of kindling arranged beneath it, only awaiting the burden of its sacrifice and the kiss of flame.

Instead, many of the villagers offered prayers, their eyes rising up to the craggy mountain that loomed over the town. High on that upright bluff was the structure that had given birth to the town ages ago, an ornate monastery that had once been devoted to a now-forgotten god. Now, that ancient structure had been rededicated to the Church of the Holy Martyr, and had been claimed as a holy site by that imperial religion. Banners emblazoned with the seal of that church flapped in the morning breeze even on the walls of that grand edifice, the Sacred Flame on them glowing as dawn flowed down to shine on that cruelly-ironic symbol.

Far below, in the lands still gripped by night's lingering touch, judgment was ready to be dispensed. The four men in the center, ringed first by the mercenaries and further by the solemn townsfolk, began to move to their positions. One of them, a man bedecked in the regalia of a Lector of the Church of the Holy Martyr, ascended onto a podium, his face gripped with a simmering fury. He did not look at the eldest man of the four, a white-bearded sexagenarian who wore simple black robes. That feeble elder was flanked by two much younger men, late in their teens, who also wore signs of the church, although their attire marked them as servants to two different Holy Orders, the martial arms of the church. One of them, sporting an awkward bowl cut and thin-rimmed spectacles, offered the old man his arm as he led him toward the pyre. Few of the townspeople looked kindly on this gesture, however, distracted by the staff on the tabard he wore, the emblem of the Inquisition. The other man looked at the crowd with a distracted frown, his hand on the sword strapped to his waist. A blade was also present upon his tabard, marking him as one of the monster hunters, the Purifiers.

The oldest man of the four allowed the Inquisitor to lead him to his final pulpit with a sad smile. He let his eyes pass over the crowd of people watching, his eyes crinkled in an expression that hinted at his gentle mirth, but many of those at the closest edges of the crowd noticed the moisture beading at the corners. He turned away to climb atop the unlit pyre, but tripped, falling hard against the platform, his bound hands barely stopping his fall. The young man beside him knelt in a panic, helping him back to his feet with a stricken expression, and the old priest regained his feet, patting the Inquisitor on the shoulder in gratitude, a final benediction. The young man stepped back, his face hidden from the peering audience, as two of the mercenaries stepped closer, carrying thick ropes.

As the men began to tie the old priest to the stake, the Lector began a sermon of his own. He spoke to the villagers of sin, of deception. He spoke of the enemies of mankind: the monsters, the seducers who turned good men into corrupted, twisted creatures. He spoke of the fate of those who gave comfort to the enemy, and as he said this, his face red with fervor, his voice cracking under the pressure of his zeal, the mercenaries lit the kindling beneath the platform.

The Lector did not cease his preaching while the fire grew. The two young knights that had taken up position on either side of him did not watch as the flames licked higher, their shoulders set as they waited for the worst. They expected for the old priest's torment, but they were spared his cries of anguish. Instead, as the people of Videre would speak of for years to come, something strange occurred as the old priest leaned back against the wooden stake, his eyes closed in resignation. Slowly, his features slackened, as if he were drifting to sleep, and by the times the flames roared higher and higher, he moved not a whit. It was as if the man had passed on waiting for his execution, though only the Lector seemed distressed by this, his sermon growing hotter as the flames surged heavenward.

In time, it was done, and the townsfolk returned to their homes, their faces gray. The Lector and his aides left as well, their mission only begun, while the mercenaries that served them headed for the local tavern, hoping the taste of ale would wash the soot and bile from their throats. They left behind the grave reminder of the power of their faith, and the consequences of defying it.

As dawn flooded into the town, as if striving to wash away the shadows of that morning, the smoke drifted skyward as the flames retired from their macabre feast. High above the town square, lost among the crags of the mountain's rough face, a single figure stood watching over the retreating townsfolk. Her lips set in a thin line, she looked down to where the old priest had left the world, and she shook her head bitterly. As the light of day began to reach around the boulders that had hidden her in darkness, she turned and disappeared into a crack in the mountain, leaving the ghastly spectacle behind.

* * *

"Heresy, my friends, spreads like a disease. It must be isolated and excised, before it contaminates the entirety of the healthy body of the faithful. We are merely healers, not murderers."

Inquisitor Errant Simon Hopkins almost listened to the older man lecture as they stepped into the humble home that they had taken as a base of operations, nodding even as his heavy thoughts kept him from digesting the Lector's words. He reached up to adjust his glasses absent-mindedly, ducking slightly under the doorframe as he entered the small house. Behind him, the third member of their party followed them inside, closing the door behind them. With just the three of them in the living area of that dwelling, it seemed unbearably cramped, especially with the small writing table and dining bench taking up so much of the space. Two doors led into different bedrooms, one of which had been claimed by the Lector as his own during their stay in Videre. He had no compunctions against taking it from its owner, who had just that morning had ceded ownership of that domicile, and everything else corporeal for that matter.

Simon glanced around the home uncomfortably. It was still stained with marks of its previous owner; small knickknacks placed on windowsills, well-thumbed books on the shelves, a fragile pair of reading glasses perched atop the writing table. Father Gerard Wulfe, as the old priest had been named, had not lived ostentatiously, but his humble abode did show a few decorations scattered about, including a vase that held long-dead flowers. That in particular made Simon wince, as he suspected he knew who had picked those flowers in days gone by, and his eyes slid to one of the closed bedroom doors. Inside, he knew from his previous visit, was a room decorated as befitted a girl of her early teens: the old priest's granddaughter.

In many ways, that girl was the reason they had come to Videre, and the reason he knew his restless gut could not be blamed on the lingering reek that had emerged from the flames. His orders had been to accompany Lector Themras to this town in order to punish a man who had given aid and shelter to an enemy of the church. It had only been on their way that he, along with the other Errant, had discovered the real details of their mission, and he had not rested since. After all, who could blame a man for trying to save his granddaughter?

Simon's introspection was interrupted by the Lector's harsh voice. "Very well. With that task done, it is time we saw to the rest." Lector Themras was a tall man, with a face that had no doubt once been handsome, but now wore a fierce scowl as its default. His clamped jaws were framed by a well-trimmed beard, as much red as brown, although white had begun to supplant both. His hair was similarly cut short, and combed straight forward in a way that was neat without being vain, as the clergyman no doubt intended. His regalia, on the other hand, was ornate: white robes embroidered with red and bronze patterns, the uniform of a man of his esteemed rank. Back in Olympus City, Themras had carried a reputation of being strict and vigilant, as much towards his own behavior as that of the scurrying acolytes who served him. Simon couldn't help but contrast that with the kindly face of late Father Wulfe, a parish priest who had turned down a position at the monastery on the mountain to tend to his more common flock, and had been beloved by the people of Videre for it.

"I will see to reviewing the heretic's notes and letters here, searching for any mention of accomplices or methods. I am certain this corruption runs much deeper than a single man." The Lector scowled down at the scattered letters that covered the man's writing desk, revealing his disdain for the task ahead of him. "I am sure his correspondences will reveal his co-conspirators, but this search will take the bulk of my attention for the next few days. That, of course, and interviewing the townsfolk." He glanced at Simon, offering a rare smile at the boy's raised eyebrow, though the expression was less than kind. "Unless you have issue with this?"

Simon sighed and shook his head. As an Inquisitor Errant, he knew that his mission was the same as the Lector's: to search for those who were insufficiently loyal to the church, and turn their names in for evaluation. His conversations with the Lector as they rode to this somewhat distant village from the capitol had, it seemed, portrayed him in the Lector's eyes as 'soft,' an appraisal that he had often suffered from his teachers during his atypically-long training as a Page and Squire. Simon wondered occasionally if his talent with holy magic, the usual purview of the Inquisitors, was the only reason he wasn't still cleaning boots and sweeping floors at the headquarters of his Order.

"Instead, I have another assignment for you." Themras peered at Simon in a way that made the younger man feel as though he were an insect writhing under a magnifying glass. "The traitor Wulfe was not known to often visit the Chapel of Divine Revelation; likely as not, he was warded off by its hallowed ground. Still, I would like for you to speak to the Prioress and the other members of the clergy who maintain that holy site. It would not do well for pilgrims to be corrupted by the sloth and extravagance of an indolent priesthood, so far from the watchful eye of the Church. Feel them out, and see if we need to increase our scrutiny of that congregation."

"Yes, Father," Simon agreed, trying hard to suppress his surprise at his good fortune. "I will go immediately."

"No, tomorrow. You may spend today getting acquainted with the townsfolk. I could use another pair of eyes watching for suspicious behavior today, when the culprits are the most likely to reveal their perfidy." Themras turned, summarily dismissing Simon. "George, you are to begin searching the surrounding forests for any sign of monster dens. This region should be clean of any such creatures, so their presence will reveal any conspiracy that has taken root to pervert this town."

The other young man in the house stood at attention, banging his head on the low roof. He was a Purifier, and in their short time together had come across to Simon as very representative of that breed of knight: eager, proud, and a little dim. His squared chin, blue eyes, and short, brown, spiked hair gave him all the look of a hero from the stories Simon had read as a child, and the Inquisitor suspected that was intentional. From their brief discussions, it was clear that Errant George Lambton had anticipated their journey as a grand adventure, though his face at that morning's grim ceremony had shown he had come to reappraise that expectation.

"Yes sir! I will depart immediately!" The Lector nodded without paying him much mind, and George marched, stooped, to the door and departed. Simon watched him go, wishing him luck; not as much in his hunt, as in his solitude. Simon, speaking for himself, would not want to be alone with this thoughts and guilt out in the wilderness that day.

As Simon moved to follow the Purifier in his escape, the man behind him called out. "Oh, and Simon," Themras began, not bothering to move his eyes from the letter he had plucked from the table. "Do take care to listen with an open mind and a closed heart. Don't assume innocence, and you will rarely be surprised." The Lector offered him a chill smile, and Simon nodded, his features carefully sculpted into a dispassionate mask. He bowed and thanked the other man for his advice, and swiftly made his retreat.

It was not the first time Simon regretted the course that his life had taken him on, wondering if he had any business as an Inquisitor. It would also not be the last.

* * *

Evening was painting the sky in vivid pastels as Simon trudged towards the inn, his assignment for the day completed fruitlessly. While the Lector he accompanied had chosen Father Wulfe's home for their base of operations and his own place of rest during their stay, Themras had left the two knights accompanying him to find lodgings of their own. George had managed to stay with a wealthy family on the town's outskirts; the lord of that manor had strong connections to the Church of the Holy Martyr, and thus had offered room and board to the Purifier as well as the four mercenaries that had accompanied them as guards. That had left Simon to find room for himself, since the Lector had insisted he stayed close to the heart of town to better observe the doings of the townsfolk, and so he had claimed a room at the inn. The innkeep had hastened to offer him his very best room, typically reserved for the sort of pilgrims who rode carriages to this remote location, and had given it to him at a discount, but still Simon lamented the fact he was likely going to foot the bill for his stay. At the least, the spacious room offered him privacy, and after a day spent harassing villagers about the life of a man he had just helped to end, he craved that solitude.

Simon leaned heavily on his staff as he walked closer to the inn. The pole was another ceremonial accoutrement of his position, but it made a decent enough walking stick, he supposed, smiling wryly. The head of the staff was carved in the shape of a star within a pentagram, over which was imposed a single eye; supposedly, it was a sign that the Inquisitors watched over mankind. It also had the effect of unnerving those who saw it, which was proven by the way the villagers Simon passed stared more at that disembodied eye than the Inquisitor's own pair. While Simon was cursed with a face slow to shed its childish pudginess, that carved eye spared him the disregard of those he spoke to, and he knew he should be thankful for that.

As he arrived at the door to the inn, Simon paused, wracking his fatigued mind. There had been something he had meant to do before he retired for the evening, but for the life of him he couldn't remember it. The smell of meat wafting from inside tempted him towards the entrance, but he held his ground against that appealing scent, struggling to think. Finally, his eyes shot open. His books! He had been so exhausted upon arrived in Videre the previous day that he had left several of his personal tomes stowed safely in his saddlebags, and hadn't returned to claim them, instead heading straight to bed after he had gone with Lector Themras to interview the condemned priest. He knew that sleep would be just as elusive this night, and hoped that reading might distract his mind enough to allow sleep to sneak up on him before his inner turmoil could blaze into a fire that would light his eyes until the morning came.

With that dim hope in mind, Simon turned away from the door of the inn and headed instead for the adjacent stables. He wondered if the innkeep or his workers might have discovered his books within his saddlebags and already delivered them to his room. He hoped not; his treasured tomes would be considered childish by most, save for a tawdrier novel sandwiched among the others, and he faced enough justified prejudice from the townsfolk without them also sneering at his reading selection.

Instead, as he made his way among the stalls, he saw his saddlebags hanging just where he had left them, outside the stall for the slight palfrey he had ridden from Olympus City. As he made for that bag, smiling in relief as he noticed the swollen pocket that contained his books, he heard words being hissed from around a corner, further into the stable. He paused as he fumbled with the strap of his saddlebag, his imagination overworked by the Lector's paranoid insistences to expect conspiracy in every corner. The desperate tone of the speakers drew him up short, and he found himself silently toeing closer, ears perked to overhear the terse conversation, believing for just a moment that the bitter priest may have been right after all.

"We can't wait a week. I'm telling you, we have to get rid of her now! You saw what happened to Old Man Wulfe. They killed him for sneaking his own granddaughter out of their hands. How do you think they'll take us hiding this from them, after they burned him alive?" This voice came from a younger man, and Simon swore he recognized it. After a moment, he recalled it as the stablehand that had taken his palfrey's reins from him the previous day.

"And how do you intend to do that?" rumbled a bass voice that was similarly familiar. "We can't release her to the wilds with that monster hunter prowling about. She's as like to lead them right back here."

"Then we turn her over!" hissed the younger man.

"Tell me, boy," growled the deeper voice, "Are you prepared to watch her burn too?"

"Better her than me! I'm going to go fetch that Lector now, and-"

"You take one more step that way, and I'll clout you so hard you won't be able to speak for a week," threatened the innkeeper, whose voice Simon finally placed.

"We'll see about that! I'm not going to die for some stupid beast!"

The stablehand dashed away from his employer, but had made it only a few steps when he froze in place, nearly tumbling onto the muck-tainted earth. Standing directly before him was one of the men he had been so terrified of. The fact that they were scarcely separated in age did not resound with his trembling heart, only the dreadful eye upon the staff and the glint of glasses in the dim light. He gaped at the Inquisitor, shaking his head, a thousand stammered denials dying a half-syllable into their lives.

"Pardon me," Simon apologized, his face carefully carved from stone. "What were you men just discussing?"

"Ah, nothing, sir, just-" mumbled the innkeep, wearing a bright façade of a smile that was moistened by the sweat on his brow.

"I don't want to burn," trembled the stableboy, swallowing past his quaking adam's apple. The innkeep shot him a naked scowl, and Simon was quite certain the lad would at the least be unemployed by day's end.

"Perhaps I should see what you are talking about," Simon suggested. He walked past the stiffened servant and up to the innkeep. For just a moment, the older man stood his ground, crossing his arms in front of him, and Simon noted the scars that crisscrossed their lengths. Videre's inn had probably been purchased with a mercenary's wages, he deduced, and the cudgel the man kept at his belt would be enough to stave in a skull as well as a cask. The man was a behemoth, and Simon's eyes were level with his bushy brown beard, but Simon adjusted his staff slightly, and as if on command the innkeep's eyes slid to glance at the symbol upon its head.

"She's harmless, my lord," he started, frowning but not meeting Simon's eyes.

"We shall be the judge of that," the Inquisitor responded, refusing to relent.

For just a moment, the innkeep's hands twitched, as if he were contemplating reaching for his cudgel. Instead, with a heavy, bitter sigh, he stepped aside. Simon noticed he had been standing in front of a stable door, and stepped closer, peering through the slatted panels of the door's upper half. It was dark inside the stall, so it took his eyes a moment to adjust, and a moment longer for him to understand what he was seeing.

At first glance, it looked as if a young woman was curled into a ball in a corner of the small room. That was remarkable enough, but her clothing was quite atypical: matching furred sleeves and leggings, along with a blouse that contrasted oddly with the cloth wrapped around her chest and serving as a skirt. She wore a thick red leather necklace, its pendant hidden from his sight. Her hair was thick, and colored the same as the majority of what she wore, while her eyes were hidden by her bowed head. It was only a moment later, as he noticed her legs were oddly formed, that realization struck Simon. Her sleeves, blouse, and leggings were not clothing at all; they were her own fur, much like that which covered the ears drooping atop her head. The necklace was in fact a collar, fitting for a dog more than a woman.

"A kobold?" Simon asked, shocked. His parents had told him stories about these creatures. They were monsters, but only just; in days gone by, they had once been accepted even among the cities of the old Order, before the rise of the Church of the Holy Martyr. As a child, he had even been told fanciful tales about how kobolds had been dogs that had been transformed into monsters on accident, cursed to be separated from the men they had faithfully served. Looking at the maiden in the stall, he could hardly see in her anything of the monsters he had heard about in his training to become an Inquisitor.

"She was Lyra's," the innkeep explained, looking in at the girl with a grieving expression. "Father Wulfe's granddaughter, you see. He took in Lyra and Gina here after her parents caught the fever, passed away a couple years back. We all knew, but no one said nothing. A kobold's not even a real monster." He glowered over at the quaking stablehand.

"Yeah, well, how do you explain what happened to Lyra?" demanded the younger man, and Simon cast an inquisitive glance to his hulking companion.

"You daft fool!" The innkeep snarled at the stableboy. "Everyone knows that kobolds don't attack humans." He glanced down to Simon. "Gina went with Lyra to visit her parent's old home, leave some flowers on their graves. It was a long trip, pretty out of the way, and they ran into some trouble with a werewolf." He shook his head slowly. "One bite is all it took. Lyra came back here so her granddad could try to cure her, but it was no good. She started to change, and Old Man Wulfe got her out of here somehow, even though word had got out and the churchies watched the roads." He blinked, as if remembering who he was talking to. "No offense, sir, just how we say it around here."

Simon waved him off, still staring into the stall. As he watched, the girl inside raised her head enough to stare blankly at the wall opposite, only to lower it again with a faint whimper. She hadn't even glanced at him, but he saw the naked grief on her face. She had been torn from her master, and now the old man that had taken care of her had… Simon swallowed, his eyes locked in place. "What are you going to do with her?" he asked, his brain not tending to his tongue.

"Well, I…" the innkeep paused, clearly surprised by the question. "I didn't mean to keep her, sir. Not here; I have a daughter of my own, I don't mean to anger the church. I had thought…" He paused, noticing the unwavering way that Simon was staring at the kobold, his face clean of malice. "Well, there's a caravan headed east due to arrive in a week. Out there, they are more friendly to her kind. I had wanted to send Gina with them, let her find a home where she'd be safe."

Simon blinked at that, finally glancing at the innkeeper. "You mean to keep her here, in the stables? You know the Lector will find her, and he will-" Simon's tongue locked in place, and he remembered seeing the old priest tied to the stake, awaiting the flame that would consume him.

The innkeep stared at Simon now, realizing that his audience was far more sympathetic to his cause than he ever would have expected. "She's just a pet, sir," he suggested meekly, lowering his hands. "She don't deserve to burn."

Simon looked again into the stall. He jolted as he realized that the kobold inside was staring at him now, and he swallowed loudly, unable to shift his gaze from her inscrutable brown eyes. Their shared stare continued in silence, until finally Simon spoke to the other man. "How do we save her?"

The stableboy interjected. "You're crazy," he mumbled, shaking his head, his wide eyes frozen on the Inquisitor.

Simon whirled, his eyes narrowed. He straightened his spine, channeling his fiercest instructor from back at the capitol, wearing the same haughty scowl, the same potent voice. "Are you questioning me?" he demanded. "Do you doubt the will of a servant of the Holy Martyr?" The stablehand shook his head frantically, but Simon gave him no chance to speak, his eyes flaring. "I represent the faith, and the faith brings both judgment and mercy. Choose your next words carefully, so that I know which you deserve!" He slammed the butt of his staff into the soft earth at his feet, visualizing the runic circle of a familiar spell, and though he was denied the sharp crack a harder floor would have made, the head of his staff flared with an inner light.

The terrified stablehand dropped to his knees, babbling as Simon drew nearer. Still the Inquisitor did not give him a chance to complete his mewling apologies. "I condemn you to holy wrath should you speak of this manner to anyone!" he declared in a booming voice, holding his staff over the man, and the resulting sharp ammonia reek suggested that either a nearby horse had casually relieved itself, or the stableboy had just soiled his breeches. "Go, and keep your tongue still lest you be damned!"

The chidden young man sprinted from the stables in a wobble-legged dash, and Simon watched him go with a smirk, the light fading from his staff. He turned back to the innkeep, who was watching with a smile, his eyebrow raised. " _Light of Faith_?" the man guessed, naming a harmless spell that served best as a replacement for a torch.

"It was either that or _Spear of Contempt_ ," Simon replied, shrugging at being caught in his deception. "And I didn't want to hurt him, so long as he will keep quiet."

"The boy's none too bright. I gave him work as a favor to his pa, an old campaigning buddy from a town over, but maybe it's about time he went home for a visit," the innkeeper suggested, smiling at the younger man.

"And stayed for a week or more?" Simon prompted, drawing a laugh from the other man. Still, Simon swallowed as he realized he was swiftly getting into a matter that was far more serious than he would have liked. Lector Themras would not be understanding of any of this, were he to discover Simon's actions. At best, were he to be discovered, he would face excommunication and exile. At worst…

"I think I like you," the innkeeper chuckled, extending a meaty hand. "Name's Charles Kramer."

"Simon Hopkins," the Inquisitor offered, taking the offered hand and shaking it, trying not to wince at the pressure of the larger man's grip. "So, if she is to remain here a week, and she can't stay in the stables, where do you propose to move her? The Lector will be paying visits to each of the homes in this town, and he has something of a nose for deception."

"Yeah, I know his sort. Self-righteous and paranoid as the last hog in a butcher's shop," Charles muttered, then offhandedly added, "No offense." Simon waved it off, mentally chewing on the analogy. "To be honest, I hadn't gotten that far. All the people in town think that Gina probably left with Lyra, however Old Man Wulfe got her out. He trusted me to keep her safe, and I gave my word, but…" He glanced towards the stall. "Not really certain how I'm to do that. Your Lector friend is going to look everywhere."

Simon's mind whirled at that suggestion. Charles was right; between George hunting in the forests around the town, and Themras scouring the village for heretics, nowhere was safe for the kobold. Themras wouldn't trust anyone from Videre, no matter their social status. The only people above suspicion would be-

The innkeep looked to him with concern as Simon groaned from deep within his chest, hanging his head. He had an idea; it was absolutely, mind-numbingly terrible, but it was the only idea he could conjure. To think he had been worried about being excommunicated for conspiring to help hide the kobold, he wailed internally. What he had in mind would see him following in Father Wulfe's footsteps all the way to the stake.

Simon knew he owed this girl nothing. He had no reason to risk his position and future, not to mention his life, for a monster, no matter how benign. He was insane to even consider it; instead, he should do the duty his faith demanded of him, and report her to Themras immediately. Doing so would see him rise in the eyes of his peers, and the tales of what he had done would immediately prove wrong all of the instructors who had scathed him during his time as a Page. He was an Inquisitor, and he had a responsibility to protect mankind from the depredations of monsters.

And it would be participating in murder, his second for the day. He had spoken of the church's mercy, and he did believe that was true: his faith was one that offered mercy to those in need. He remembered the despair in the kobold's eyes, and could think of none more worthy of kindness than a girl stripped of her family and home. He had a responsibility to protect those in need from the depredations of those who would prey upon them, also. Even if that meant defying a man with the power to end his life.

"Send her to my room."

Charles gaped openly at the younger man. "Are you sure, lad? That's…"

"Heresy?" Simon chuckled, and there was a degree of madness in the sound. "It's been that kind of day, I guess." He stepped closer to the door, looking inside once more. To his surprise, the kobold was standing just on the other side, and she met his gaze with her own. For a long moment, the man and woman didn't move, eyes unwavering. For a fleeting second, Simon thought he saw something in her gaze, a flicker of hope that crushed all his resistance. "I'll protect her as best I can until she can be spirited away to the east. I can promise nothing more than that." He frowned as he looked back to Charles. "Do you think she will be quiet enough to hide her?"

The hulking man laughed. "I don't think you have to worry about that, lad. I've not heard a word from her." He clapped his hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder, squeezing in solidarity. "I'll have my girl help her bathe so she doesn't smell like the stables, and we'll sneak her up to your room late this evening. The inn's pretty quiet now; not many wanted to stick around when you all rode into town." Charles nodded gregariously, smiling at the girl in the stall. "At least if we burn, we'll be in good company," he offered optimistically. On the other side of the door, the kobold's tail began to gently wag.

Somehow, however, Simon was not reassured.

 _ **Author's Note**_ _: Welcome back, my readers, for the third of my MGE stories! This tale sprang into being as a concept on the same day as "Not Alone," and I began writing it almost immediately after I finished that work. As of now, the third chapter is already complete, and the fourth begun, though I may experience some interruptions in my writing with grades due next week and my personal computer out with a dying CPU fan. Still, I shall press on, and hope to maintain postings on Friday and Tuesday of each week for as long as I am able. Let us pray my skill and fervor are the match for my ambition!... for once._

 _This story starts in a dark place, atypically so for my writing. It was important to the tale as a whole, however. I will say that, as of now, this work should feature more erotic scenes than its predecessor. "Wisdom in Shadow" is a slightly different genre than "Not Alone," having more of mystery in it than anything else I have written, so I pray you bear with my experimentation. It also features a great deal of explanation of my altered setting, which I try to keep dispersed enough not to be overwhelming._

 _Thank you again for reading this far, and I shall return soon enough with the second chapter. Please remember that I rejoice at comments on my work, and would absolutely love to hear your opinions. Nothing fuels my efforts at writing more than to hear someone's opinion on what I have created!_

 _But, in any case, I had best return to the story itself if I am to maintain this pace. And, inevitably, sometime I must make time to sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	2. Solitude

When Simon returned to his room after his dinner, the stack of books he had recovered from his saddlebag held firmly in his arms, he discovered that a place had already been prepared for his new roommate. His room at the inn was surprisingly spacious, certainly more so than the dormitories he had occupied as a Page. The bed, he had discovered the previous night, was luxuriously soft and wide, though his tormented thoughts hadn't allowed him to do it justice with a solid slumber. Now, however, the bed was made, unlike the twisted mess he had left that morning, and in the corner of the room a stack of thick blankets had been arranged on the floor as a makeshift couch for his canine cohabiter.

Simon dumped his books onto the bed and collapsed down next to them, removing his glasses and grasping his temples with both hands as he sighed deeply. His mind whirled as he fought to stay in control of his thoughts, but failed utterly. As dread clawed at his heart and anxiety prickled up his spine, he turned to the only distraction within reach, digging through the stack of books. Reading had been the childish escape he had utilized ever since he had been taken from his parents by a deacon charged with finding promising youths to recruit for the Orders. Still, his collection was small enough to be hidden from prying eyes: a handful of faded, loose-spined storybooks with fanciful illustrations, and an assortment of treatises on divine magic. One book in particular he isolated from the others, a thin novel with a luridly-colored cover. This one he hastened to hide, pressing it down between the head of the bed and the wall it rested against. He had always regretted purchasing it, a vulgar romance tale about a knight and a common woman with several floridly-described love scenes. In selecting it, he had fallen prey to two swindling con men: a smooth-tongued bookseller that had scandalously implied that it had been written by a famous monster author, and his own teenaged libido. Still, he hadn't discarded it; rereading his favorite sections had proven quite educational, though he had not yet enjoyed an opportunity to put said knowledge into practice. Few women hastened to go on a date with someone who could, if jilted, order them to prison or worse.

It hadn't hurt that owning that book, and some of the others, had been a small insurrection against his teachers. Unlike many of his peers, he had not entered the Holy Orders voluntarily. His family had left their homes in Avalon City when he had neared the age of recruitment, but after they journeyed south an unfortunate encounter with one of the church's talent-seekers years later had earned him an order to report to the capitol of the Hellenistic Empire. His parents had trusted him with several of those books as a memento, since they knew they would be denied visits to him until after he had finished his training. Years ago, one of his instructors had told him, offhandedly, that his parents had perished in a monster attack further east, and now those books were all that remained of his life before the church. He reached out to one of the storybooks with a melancholy smile, trying to remember the faces of his parents. Even if they had survived, he wasn't certain he would recognize them.

A quiet knock at the door made him pause. Thrusting himself up from the bed and placing his glasses back on his face, he slipped swiftly to the door, cracking it open, his heart in his throat. What if the Lector paid him a visit, or George? The ebullient face and bristling beard of Charles, instead, peeked at him from the hall, and beside the innkeeper was a girl clad in a long dress with a large, fashionable hat that hung low over her face. "In you go, girl," Charles prompted, and she walked into Simon's room silently, brushing past him without a word. "She's been fed already. I'll bring up breakfast for you both in the morning, so don't worry about that," the innkeeper offered in a whisper.

"Thanks." Simon nodded gratefully, and his co-conspirator clasped him again on the shoulder with a brave smile before turning back to the stairs that led down to the inn's lower level. Simon closed the door behind him, taking a long moment to gather his nerves before he turned to face his newest challenge.

The soft sound of piling cloth drew his eyes in a hurry, and he whirled to find that Gina had removed her impromptu costume, stepping clear of the crumpled dress on the floor, her hat placed carefully on his wardrobe. His breath caught in this throat until he realized that underneath she still wore the same rags around her chest and waist as before, preserving her modesty. Her head was lowered to face the ground, and she didn't look at him.

For a long moment he froze indecisively, not certain how best to proceed. In truth, he knew very little about how to interact with kobolds, or any type of monster, or girls for that matter. He cleared his throat, stepping closer and bending down to pick up the dress off the floor. Carefully folding it and placing it on a dresser, he winced as the awkward silence stretched towards infinity. Dimly, he wondered if she would even understand him at all; were kobolds advanced enough to understand human languages? The tension in his shoulders kept him locked in place, turned away from her as the words inside him began to boil over.

"I'm sorry," he managed. "I'm sorry for… for what we did, to Father Wulfe, to your family. You didn't deserve that. He… he didn't deserve that." Simon uttered the blasphemy without regret. "I can't change what we did, but I want to help you." He turned, and found that she was facing him, though he still couldn't read her expression. "I'll help you escape to somewhere you can live without… us." He chuckled; just a few hours into his crime, and he already felt weird lumping himself in with the rest of his Order.

Simon started as Gina walked up to him, her eyes locked on his face. When she stood directly in front of him, she leaned closer, her fluffy ears level with his eyes, and tilted her head to the side. He heard her inhaling in rapid sniffs, smelling up the side of his neck, across his chest, breathing in his scent. With that done, she straightened, looking him in the eyes once more. Her mouth opened, but the sound that came out was more of a soft bark than speech.

Simon's shoulders slumped, though whether in relief or exhaustion he couldn't tell. "So you can't speak, but I guess that means you accept my apology? I mean, for what it counts." She didn't reply, but her tail began to wag slowly behind her. He smiled at her, scratching his head. "Well, that works, I guess. No one will overhear us talking if you can't speak." Her response was a softer bark, as if she had understood. Her eyes remained locked on his face, and he had trouble tearing his own gaze from those soulful brown orbs, drawn almost by an intense gravity to look inside. "Well, then for the next week, it looks like we'll both be living here." He tore his eyes away to motion towards the pile of blankets. "Mr. Kramer has a bed for you here, so…" He felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he smiled uncomfortably, feeling profoundly off-balance being the one only talking. "I'm going to get ready for bed myself."

With that declaration, he stepped over to his bed, clearing it of his literary debris, stacking them neatly beside the bed. He moved to extinguish all the tapers in the room save for the one on the nightstand beside his bed as he heard the kobold get settled onto the piled blankets. With that done, he reached down to strip to his underclothes, suddenly conscious of Gina's presence in the room. He glanced behind to see if she was watching, and his heart jolted when he discovered that she was staring blandly across the room at him. He met her gaze for a long moment, trying to will her to look away, but she was unfazed. "Sorry, I'm changing," he suggested. She blinked, but did not move. Sighing, Simon turned his back to her, quickly disrobing down to his long undershirt. A suspicious glance behind revealed that her gaze had not shifted an inch, and it may have just been paranoia but he thought he saw the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips.

Thus attired for slumber, Simon threw back the sheets and climbed into bed. He considered staying up to read, but the sound of rustling across the room suggested to him that it may be impolite to keep her up with the light from his candle. Perhaps, he decided, this day would be best left behind as soon as possible. With that resolved, Simon took up the taper and extinguished it with a burst of breath, sealing the room in shadow. Placing the candle back atop the nightstand along with his glasses, Simon rolled over, turning his back to the rest of the room.

His stubborn heart rejected his wishes for it to slow its pace, and in the tight silence of the room his ears perked at every shift and shuffle from Gina's bed. Still, he stretched out as best he was able, letting his muscles voice their protests at last. He had walked all over the town that day, seeking out villagers to interrogate, and was still a bit saddlesore from their voyage from Olympus City. His mind, too, was wearied from the probing conversations he had fought through all day. Perhaps, he consoled himself, it wouldn't be as hard to sleep that night as he had feared.

Suddenly, his eyes shot wide open in the darkness. Sleep had been draping itself over him to the point he had not noticed the soft sounds of movement, but the rustling of his own sheets was a different matter entirely. Even in the dim moonlight emerging from the room's single window, he could see the bulge in his blankets traveling upward. He swallowed loudly as a furry-eared head popped out of those entrapping sheets, brown eyes staring at him intensely in the moonlight. Somewhere lower, he was conscious of a furred tail thumping against the constraining blankets, and she offered him the softest bark he had ever heard in lieu of an explanation.

Simon froze in place, refusing to even blink as he stared down at her. He had definitely not prepared his heart for this. Instead, he tensed himself into a statue as she began to sniff at his face once again, lowering her head to smell his chest. As he waited, she looked at him expectantly, and he met that gaze with terror pounding on his ribs. Finally, his paralyzed brain grinding to life, he sighed in defeat. "Of course. You aren't used to sleeping alone. There was only one bed in Lyra's room." At that name, the kobold whined, and looked down. Simon winced at his blunder. "I know you miss her. I… wish I could help you find her." That drew Gina's eyes back to him, and even in the shadows he could see her lip trembling, the moisture in her eyes. By reflex he freed his hand from the covers, and it paused halfway to its destination, Gina glancing at it curiously with a faint sniffle. Overcoming his hesitation, Simon pressed on, lowering his hand to her head, patting her gently. "It's okay," he offered lamely, stroking her head with short movements. "It's okay." Her face lowered to his chest, and he could feel her trembling as moisture began to seep into his shirt.

He jumped slightly as he felt her furred arms brush against his sides, and she paused, but when he didn't stop her she completed the motion, hugging him tightly as she sniffled, her almost inaudible whines bringing tears to his own eyes. He shifted in the bed, and she pulled back, revealing wet cheeks gleaming in the moonlight, but instead of moving away he slid his arm under her neck to hug her back, his other hand still stroking her head. Their embrace complete, he squeezed her compassionately, and that broke her last resistances. Heart-wrenching sobs filled the room as he stroked her hair, murmuring comfort into her ears, remembering a time when he had lost everyone he loved and how he had wanted to be held just like this.

She cried for a long time, and despite himself Simon felt his brain drifting away to sleep as he unconsciously stroked her hair. He jostled back to half-wakefulness as he felt her snuggle in closer to his body, her grief spent, and began to pet her in longer touches, his hand trailing from the top of her head down to the ends of her hair, midway down her back. He could feel the smooth skin of her upper back under his palm, and that set off quiet alarm bells in his head, though his sleep-dulled mind was slow to pick up why. It was only as she shifted, her soft chest pressing tighter against his, that understanding flared to life like a newborn star, and his eyes shot open wide once more. Carefully, he stroked her hair once more to confirm his suspicions, then shifted in the bed, turning away from her to glance towards her originally-intended bed. Sure enough, the moonlight trickling through the window revealed raglike cloths draped onto the blankets. Simon's overtaxed heart seized as he realized that she had also stripped before entering his bed, and now he was separated from a naked girl only by his own nightshirt.

Gina shifted to look up at him as he turned back, her eyes curious at his terrified expression. He forced a rigid smile, but she didn't lose her inquisitive countenance, her head tilted slightly to the side. As he settled back into his place, she hugged him tightly, not realizing she was only making matters worse. Trying to restrain a surge of blood that was threatening to depart southward, Simon resumed his stroking, hoping to calm them both to sleep as swiftly as he could manage. Instead, she smiled up at him with gratitude, and to his pleasured horror leaned closer to his face, her tongue flicking out against his chin as she lapped softly at his face. Simon shuddered, but she continued for several moments, before barking softly with a brightening smile. He returned the expression, even though his legs were clamped together in hopes of restraining his growing problem, and ruffled the hair on the top of her head. This satisfied her, and she burrowed her face against his chest once more with a few final sniffs, leaving him wide awake in the darkness, thinking about runic circles and ancient stories and definitely not the soft, naked body pressed tightly against him.

While earlier in the day Simon had predicted he would have trouble sleeping that evening, he would never have been able to predict the cause.

* * *

 _He dreamed of shadows._

 _The boy in the black cloak quaked in the darkness, looking up at the towering spire that loomed over him. Atop that peak stood a castle, a grim edifice that was silhouetted against the dying light. Banners flapped on its walls, painted in blasphemy, fires burning purple with lewd shadows cavorting amongst the tongues of flame. Faceless statues stood upon the ramparts, their heads cruelly smashed into anonymity, and the smallest statue loomed over them all._

 _He turned to flee, but his ankles were bound. He looked down in terror, finding chains wrapping around his legs like serpents, teasing his thighs mischievously. He yanked at them to free himself, but the chains continued undeterred, seizing him with stifling tightness, and he gasped as he felt his freedom sucked from him with a chilling caress._

 _A sultry female voice whispered into his ear, though no one stood by him. "Wisdom has its price, my child," warned the woman, her voice dark and rich and potent. "That price is pleasure. Receive it, and surrender to it, and be endarkened by our enlightenment." He shook his head helplessly, sensing her dark humor, her lust. She was coming to claim him, and there was nothing he could do but shiver in terror as the shadow loomed over him, ready to devour him into her eternal embrace._

* * *

Soft moans greeted Simon as he returned reluctantly to the land of the living that morning. Blinking drowsily, he tightened his grip on the warm body he was holding, squeezing it to him with the drowsy infantilism of a child clutching a favored stuffed bear. A rhythmic motion sent throbbing pleasure waving up his spine, and he moaned in unconscious appreciation, pleased to have left some terrifying nightmare only to find a much more pleasant dream. A soft panting sound in his ear, however, soon convinced him this was no nightvision, and he opened his eyes to the glare of morning sunlight.

He felt a soft form grinding against his pelvis, and his brain tripped on its way to sudden wakefulness. It seemed a certain traitorous appendage had awoken long before his brain had stumbled out of slumber, and Gina had most certainly noticed. Now, the kobold was pressing their lower bodies together in a rolling motion, and the only thing that separated their loins was his thin longshirt, which had been moistened by one or both of them. He could see her face, and she was biting her lip with an expression of languid need, her cheeks flushed as she breathed heavily. She slid her body against his length, and Simon groaned at the pleasure, drawing her half-lidded eyes up to his face with a delighted smile.

A sudden civil war erupted between his brain and his lower parts, who refused all commands to disengage and retreat, lost in the lust of battle between their grinding bodies. Treason seeped into his head as he wondered, for only a moment, how much better it would feel to just lift his shirt out of the way, to feel her nakedness directly against his-

A polite rapping at his door threw the conflict in favor of fleeing, and panic plunged its talons into his heart. Hastily scooting away from the alarmed kobold, he floundered for his glasses and breeches, calling out, "J-just a moment!" Distracted by the terror that his visitor could be Themras, he hurriedly drew up his pants and struggled into a thicker shirt as he rushed to the door. Taking a moment to slow his breathing and calm his thoughts, he gritted his teeth in frustration that he hadn't warned Gina to stay out of sight. Thankfully, the bed was not in view of the door, so, as long as the Lector didn't enter the room… Simon's anxiety wrung at his stomach, and he felt like weeping, regretting this entire arrangement immensely.

His façade prepared, unlike his heart, Simon opened the door with an attempt at a smile. To his incredible relief, he was not greeted by the sight of the priest's penetrating glare, but instead the awkward smile of a girl his own age. The young lady, no doubt the daughter the innkeep had mentioned, was considerably shorter than him, with long, voluminous brown hair pulled back in a loose braid, and she wore large spectacles that dominated her rounded face. 'Round' was a widely-applicable word for the maiden; she was generously endowed, especially her chest, which strained at the brown cotton dress she wore, but was pleasantly plump in general. Simon forced his eyes back to her face, blushing; it seemed his thinking was still tainted by the impulses of his still-eager member. "I'm sorry to wake you; I just wanted to bring your breakfast-" the girl started, her own eyes canvassing him as well, noticing a somewhat-reduced bulge in his breeches, before glancing past him with paling cheeks. "Sorry to interrupt!" she blurted, as Simon also glanced back to notice the naked form of Gina walking unabashedly over to her barely-ruffled bedding to pick up her own clothing. The Inquisitor grunted as he felt the tray the girl had been carrying bump into his chest, and as soon as he took it from her the girl bolted for the stairs.

"No, no, please, we weren't- It's not what you-" Simon spluttered, but the girl was gone. Sighing in exhaustion inappropriate for this early in the morning, he turned back into the room, balancing the tray enough to close the door behind him. "Well," he mused bitterly to himself, "I didn't think it was possible for people here to like me any less. Glad to see I could add 'pervert' to my list of virtues in their eyes." He sat down on the bed, lifting the lid to reveal a plate of warm bread and a container of jam, while he presumed the lidded can contained chilled milk. He poured one of the glasses on the tray full and split the bread between the plate and the tray, handing the plate and the glass of milk to Gina. The kobold, now dressed in her original rags, took her breakfast and sat down on the floor in front of him, smearing the bread heavily with jam before nibbling at it enthusiastically.

As Simon chewed on his own meal, rather impressed by the flavor of the bread, his mood was a sour counterpoint to the sweetness of the fruity jam. Some exiled part of him fumed in petulant regret that Gina had been interrupted, while the rest of him was disturbed by what had nearly happened. He knew Gina was more intelligent than the dog she sometimes acted like, but watching her as she happily chewed on her jam-saturated bread he wondered how childish she truly was. Not physically; in that department, she was obviously developed. Still, he worried that, had he allowed himself to follow what had started that morning, he would have been taking advantage of her. And, of course, she was a monster, and his faith preached that laying with a monster was a cardinal sin that very few things could cleanse, and he had nearly done it merely because of a morning erection. He sighed, frowning at his half-eaten chunk of bread. Plus, it wouldn't do to get too attached to her, since she would be leaving in a week's time, and then he could return to his normal life. 'Normal,' like hunting for heretics and purging unclean men who did things that didn't seem especially sinful-

Motion in front of him drew his attention outward, and he looked up in surprise to see Gina's beaming face directly before him. She leaned in closer, licking a spot of jam from his cheek, and he laughed at the tickling feeling. "Are you trying to say I think too much?" he chuckled, as her tongue attacked places that probably had never seen jam in the first place. She backed off, smiling at his insight as she patted him on the head with her pawlike hand. "Thanks, you're probably right," he admitted, cramming down the last of his breakfast and downing the remnants of his milk. He brushed the white trail from his upper lip before she could assault it, but stroked her head in compensation, and she preened under the attention.

"Listen, Gina, I'm going to have to go complete my assignment for the Lector. I'll be back this evening, but you have to stay quiet and hidden till then, okay?" Simon asked, quickly taking up his usual gear and finishing his preparations to step outside. He took her bark to be an affirmative, but a different thought struck his mind. "Oh, you'll have to, ah, go, eventually, right?" He scratched his chin absently. "Do you have to go outside, like on a walk, or-?" He noticed her frowning at him, and she pointed bluntly to the chamberpot in the corner of the room. "Oh, well, great!" He asserted, laughing uncomfortably before glancing to the door for a quick retreat. "I'll come back as soon as I can, okay?"

He didn't make it to the door before he heard her furred feet racing against the wooden floor. He turned just in time for her to lunge at him, grabbing him in a tight hug, which he returned in kind, a protective desire welling up inside him. He patted her head one final time, and she smiled up at him before returning to the bed. Once she was safely out of sight, he opened the door and stepped out.

He had his assignment, but the worst of the day was immediately before him. He hadn't been debriefed on his interrogation of the townspeople the previous day, and so he needed to speak with Lector Themras before he moved on to his investigation of the monastery on the mountain. Still, his stomach twisted at the thought of facing the man, especially with the Lector's obsession with secret sins. It was just paranoia, he knew, but he worried that the man would spot his betrayal as soon as he walked in the door.

Knowing there was only one way to find out, Simon marched out of the inn, his spine rigid and his mind armored against examination, even though the morning sun made him swear he could already feel the flames lapping at his skin.

* * *

"Enter."

Simon entered the former home of Father Wulfe with his face set in a stoic mask. He glanced about, hoping to see George, but the Purifier Errant was absent, either having already received his own orders or yet to arrive. Instead, Themras sat alone, not looking up as he sorted through the late priest's letters. The Lector had obviously been hard at work; many of the papers had been sorted into several piles. A wastebasket waited near the desk, though it was scarcely used; from what Simon knew of the Lector's methodology, he would be slow to discard even the most innocuous-seeming manuscript, saving it for another passing in search of hidden meanings or coded language.

The paper at the top of the wastebasket drew the Inquisitor's eyes, and cold sweat trickled down his neck. It was artwork, obviously the fruit of a child's efforts, perhaps one of the priest's youngest parishioners: a trio of figures, one taller than the others with a white beard, with two girls at his side. One of the girls had been drawn with floppy ears and copious amounts of fur. For just a moment, knowing that his deception might be revealed, Simon felt a wild urge to surrender Gina to the Lector, to blurt out that there had in fact been two monsters given shelter by the dead priest, and that he had captured one of them. He could pull it off, he knew, and this was the last moment he would have that option.

"Father, I have uncovered something in my investigations," Simon started, facing the priest with an unwavering stare. "There were two monsters in this town, both given shelter by the heretic Wulfe. However, it seems that both of them managed to escape somehow."

"Oh, I know," Lector Themras responded indifferently, not glancing up from his reading. "A kobold, it seems. Some fools believe that they are less monstrous than any other hellspawn, but they are misguided. Those canine harlots are just as aggressive in corrupting men, their gentleness a façade over their perverse appetites." Themras sighed, grieving for the frailty of his fellow men. "I've already put George onto its trail as well. He and the men-at-arms have already departed on their hunt; it seems they are less prone to sloth." He glanced sidelong at Simon, who winced under the rebuke. "Have you anything further to report?"

Simon's mind flashed over his conversations with the people of the town the previous day. "All I spoke to suggested that Father Wulfe had no further family or strong friends outside of this town. He seemed to have traveled rarely, due to an old injury in his leg. With that in mind, I could find no indication of where he might have sent his granddaughter-"

"Sent the monster he was aiding," corrected the priest fiercely, and Simon bowed his head under the reprimand before continuing.

"I could also find no other indication of monstrous activity in the region. I found nothing to suggest any of them knew of strange sights or secret meetings, though few of them were eager to converse with me," he admitted, swallowing his opinion on why that had been the case.

"Ah, but therein lies the difference between an experienced listener who knows the hearts of men, and a novice," Themras instructed. "Your direct approach left them fearing you wanted to know what 'they' had done. I gave them more opportunity to speak of the sins of others, and speak they did. How quickly iniquity turns on itself!" He laughed, bitterly, as was his wont. "Several spoke of disappearances in the night. Not of the people of this little hamlet, but of male pilgrims who had arrived here, yet never at their next destination. This has led to fewer caravans making the trek to the monastery as rumors begin to build. Too many here assume bandits, but we know the most likely suspects: those poor devouts likely were offered as sacrifices to the monsters lurking in the shadows. The faithless here fear for their suffering businesses instead of pursuing the culprits, but we shall show them the true path of righteousness. We shall reveal the corruption festering in the hearts of their neighbors, and those that can will be saved from torment and sin!"

Simon blinked, filtering the priest's sermon. "Pilgrims to the monastery, then? Those are the only ones disappearing?"

"The only victims that could be claimed without drawing alarm," Themras admonished. "While we know that the parish priest was tainted, I have seen little to indicate the same of those dwelling atop the mountain. They stay cloistered and aloof, not venturing down the narrow road to this town more than once a season. No, I find it more likely that some among the townsfolk are the more likely perpetrators, and I am certain I will find evidence of that among the heretic's letters." The priest turned back to his search as he spoke, trailing off at the end. It was clear to Simon he was being summarily dismissed.

"Very well, Father. Shall I still investigate the clergy's practices as you ordered yesterday?" Simon asked, frowning at the new twist to their visit to Videre. Themras didn't respond vocally, instead waving over his shoulder, too distracted to amend his previous demands. Simon took advantage of that, saying his farewells and making a quick retreat from the cottage that had once been Gina's home. He didn't breathe easily until he was a good distance from the house, the tightness about his chest releasing in a drawn-out sigh.

Still, even as he walked down the streets of the town, ignoring the surreptitious glances the townsfolk were cautiously giving him, his brow was furrowed. Themras's mention of missing pilgrims could be nothing more than scuttlebutt, but it did strike him as odd. Videre was much too far to the west to be plagued by random monster attacks; the Purifiers patrolled this region routinely. If people were being taken, then they had to end up somewhere; even if brigands were preying on the pilgrims and then killing them, eventually the bodies would emerge. Simon thought of George and the mercenaries. Perhaps they would find something to solve that particular mystery, though he continued to doubt that the missing people had fallen prey to monsters, who tended to only take a single man for themselves. If so many had disappeared that rumors were spreading, then that would suggest a very large population of monsters, and that struck him as very unlikely.

Still, he had his own duty to see to. He looked upward as he neared the road that ascended the mountain. Far above, he could see the peaked walls of the Chapel of Divine Revelation, a place that he had always wanted to visit. It looked just as it did in one of the books he had stacked in his room at the inn, and his inner child had wanted to walk its halls for years. Still, something dragged at his heels, and he had to convince himself not to stop off at the inn once more to check on Gina. He needed to begin the long walk to the monastery, but he hesitated, and he didn't know why. It was almost as if looking at it scared him, as if he had seen its shape in a forgotten dream.

Tapping his staff against the ground and squaring his shoulders, Simon pressed on. He had a job to do, and he would do it. And then, that evening, he could return to the inn, and see Gina once more, a thought that excited him to a worrisome degree. There was nothing to fear about his task; after all, what was the worst that could happen in a monastery?

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Welcome back, my readers! Progress continues on this work, impeded somewhat by a few unfortunate events in the past week, but still I press on. I have a grim deadline looming on Friday, the guillotine of a noontime grade submission deadline scaring me to wakefulness in the dark hours of the night, but despite that I still manage to sneak in a few periods of writing in between frantically entering quiz grades and marking up tests until it feels like I am bleeding red ink onto the pages._

 _Ahem... on to more important matters. Chapter 5 is 2/3 finished, which isn't bad, considering it is longer than any of the others thus far. Chapter 6 will once more be important, so I am looking forward to it, and hope you do as well. My longtime readers may notice that I return once more to a frequent theme in my writings; I am too much of a Jungian to miss a chance to feature dreams in my works, although the ominous figure in these is much different in nature than Mori Retsu. Stories, too, are an important part of this tale, and how legends may be changed by history..._

 _But, those stories will wait a few days, until I return on Friday with Chapter 3. I thank all of you for reading, and those of you who comment for your feedback, which I dearly appreciate. I hope you return at the end of the week for the next chapter!_

 _Of course, between grading and writing, I find myself quite fatigued, and so, for now, I sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	3. Scripture

The Chapel of Divine Revelation was humbly named for such an impressive structure. As Simon entered the outer narthex, he was impressed by the roominess of the entrance, which featured vaulted ceilings high overhead. Judging from the structure of the building's exterior, a second floor was located above the center of that ceiling, but that stole nothing of the high arch from the entryway. He looked around, marveling at the differences between this place and the cathedrals he was accustomed to from his time in Olympus City. While this building lacked much of their opulence, such as the gold inlay and the gleaming marble, it had an undeniable dignity to the dark wood of its walls and the age-smoothed carvings that covered them.

Simon paced leisurely as he gazed around him. The outer narthex was uncrowded, with only a few groups of pilgrims standing about, talking amongst themselves as they awaited one of the nuns that were cloistered within to lead them further into the cathedral. The pilgrims were so few in number for such a significant location that Simon frowned, wondering if there were indeed rumors scaring travelers away from Videre and its landmark. So lost in though was he that he scarcely noticed the pilgrims wincing and turning away from him; the sight of a scowling Inquisitor was rarely a good one.

Motion near the door leading into the inner narthex drew his eye, and he turned to see one of the sisters enter the room, only to spot him and immediately leave once more, the sound of her racing feet echoing in the open air. He chuckled at that, glancing down at his tabard and his staff before looking over to the nearest group of supplicants. "It seems I'm expected," he explained wryly, trying not to resent the way they flinched at his voice. "Sorry for skipping the line."

Only a few minutes passed before Simon's escort arrived. Unlike the frantic nun who had run to fetch her, the sister who entered the narthex walked with a calm grace, her head held high and her face politely reserved. Unlike the previous sister, who had been clad in a blanketing black habit and a white wimple that had covered much of her face, the tall woman approaching him now wore a slightly more refined outfit, with a white scapular belted tightly over her dark attire, and the white coif she wore left much of her platinum hair bared, a bit of decadence that Simon was sure Lector Themras would decry as vanity. It was hard for Simon to judge the woman's age; her face was unlined and even attractive, though her expression spoke clearly of the authority she wielded. She favored him with the subtlest of smiles as she approached, bowing her head slightly in greeting. "Welcome, sir Inquisitor, to the Chapel of Divine Revelation. It is always pleasurable to see another member of the faith join us here for enlightenment. I am Sister Benevolence, prioress of this convent. What might we humble sisters do for you this morning?" At this, her smile grew, and he thought he could see a hidden humor in her dark eyes.

"My apologies, Prioress," Simon began, bowing his head in response. "I am Inquisitor Errant Simon Hopkins, and I'm afraid today I come on assignment, rather than on pilgrimage. Lector Themras has deployed me to survey your practices in light of yesterday's… unfortunate events."

"Ah, Father Wulfe," the woman said, her face slipping slightly into sadness. "A true shame for one such as him to fall like that. We were not associated with him, or his practices, but it is always troubling to hear of such tragedy."

"Of course. I take it, then, that you didn't know Father Wulfe personally?"

"I'm afraid not," the woman assured him. "He tended to keep to his home, and the small chapel in town used by the townsfolk for their own observances. It is a difficult trek up the mountain, you see, so few of those who live nearby attend services here. Instead, our masses tend to be for the pilgrims, who travel from across the continent to visit this sacred hall. We maintain apartments for those who come here, to spare them the toil of climbing up to this plateau."

Simon agreed with her strongly when it came to the walk up to the monastery. It had taken him hours, and even with the added aid of gravity he wasn't looking forward to his return trip down the mountain. Her words also explained why the inn in Videre was so sparsely populated; the rooms were intended for those with business in the town itself, or for wealthy travelers unwilling to slum in the spartan apartments provided by the sisters. "I see. Did you know anything of his crimes before they were conveyed to the church in the capitol?"

Sister Benevolence smiled at him. For just a moment, he thought he saw her nostrils flare, as if she were sniffing the air. "His crimes?" She looked away, her lips losing their curl, but her eyes returned to him. "Well, I believe there were some rumors that his granddaughter kept a kobold, but we felt it not our place to chastise him for that. Some sisters here come from countries where that was once accepted, before the expansion of the Hellenistic Empire, and so did the girl. We merely believed the situation would take care of itself in time, as it has."

Simon nodded, a familiar twinge of guilt plucking at his heart. "Of course. I doubt that many in the church would see fit to censure you for that, considering you had no responsibility for Father Wulfe."

"And anyways, aren't kobolds harmless?" she interrupted, tapping her chin as if in thought.

Simon blinked, offput by the suggestion. "Well, I mean… church doctrine is that all monsters are corruptive by nature, and should be shunned, of course." He carefully fought to swallow down his hypocrisy.

"Of course. Forgive my leniency." Sister Benevolence bowed her head to him in apology. When she straightened, her lips had retaken their smile. "I assure you that all is as it should be here, but I understand if you must investigate. If you are to look for any signs of corruption or indolence, shall I give you a tour of the monastery? I have served here the longest of all the sisters, so I should be able to answer any of your questions."

"Thank you, that would be much appreciated." He stepped forward, and she turned, leading him into the inner narthex. As they entered that chamber, the first thing he noticed was the statue in the center, a stone column atop which stood a young man clutching a sword to his breast. His head was bowed and smooth, showing only the most general of facial features. In contrast, his tabard was detailed with faint lines and darkened with dye, indicating the blood that had flowed from the wound that had slain him. Simon inclined his head at the sight of the familiar form; statues of the Holy Martyr had been all but omnipresent in Olympus City, but he still reflexively bowed to the man that had saved humanity from the Demon King over a century ago.

Ringed around the inner entrance chamber were six other statues, carved in the same style as the Martyr's. They were, together, the Seven Heroes who had saved the world. Nearest to him were the Scout and the Ranger, with the Conqueror and the Paladin opposite each other on either side of the main statue. Closest to the sanctum were the Priest and the Squire, with the latter standing on a higher plinth so his height was not as far removed from the others. All of the statues wore identical smooth faces, but were dressed in the style of their profession. The display was similar to hundreds that Simon had seen in the capitol, but a few details struck him as odd. First, all the statues showed an older style; more modern statues tended to be heavily idealized, to the point that it was often hard to tell the difference between most of the heroes if not for the weapons they bore, the Squire notwithstanding. Also, there was something about the arrangement that struck him as unusual, and it took him a moment to produce the reason why. "Ah, of course. This monastery was the home of the Priest before their journey, wasn't it? So of course he would have a more prominent placement." He nodded to one of the rear plinths, which typically would hold the statue of the Paladin.

"Ah, then you have an interest in our history?" Sister Benevolence turned to him with a brighter smile. "Yes, you are correct. The structure was far smaller then, and only was renovated after the Last War of the Demon King, in honor of his sacrifice. The chapel then was devoted to one of the vanished gods, but after the spread of the Church of the Holy Martyr it was rededicated to that faith."

"How much remains from that earlier period?" Simon asked as she led him past the statues, his eyes locked onto the shape of the Priest, who had a book clutched to his chest. That was odd, too, he noted; most of his forms had him holding a staff just like Simon's own.

"Well, there are crypts below the sanctuary that hold the bones of ancient saints, and even Heroes from wars before the Last War of the Demon King, though none still know their stories." She shrugged delicately, and glanced at him sidelong. "It is really a shame, how much knowledge has been lost."

"I agree, wholeheartedly," Simon admitted, looking about him as they entered the nave. On either side were stained-glass windows featuring depictions of knights battling monstrous creatures, plunging their swords into the breasts of inhuman beasts. The light of day streamed through those windows, throwing their colors in broad swathes upon the floor. At the far end in front of the altar stood a podium that was currently unoccupied, though scattered groups of nuns spoke to small parties of pilgrims along the walls. "Even the names of the Seven Heroes, which has always haunted me." He paused, blinking at that admission. "Don't get me wrong, I understand that we believe that they are emblematic of humanity as a whole, and so their individual histories are less important, but I feel like we could learn so much from their stories." He felt like the stumble-tongued student he had been not long ago, bracing for a rebuke from one of his instructors.

"Oh, I couldn't have said it better myself," responded the Prioress enthusiastically, and he turned to find a bright smile on her face. "I myself have spent a great deal of time reading through our libraries in search of some knowledge about them, hoping for some discovery to pass on to the faithful."

"You have sizeable libraries, here, then?" Simon prompted, trying to keep the eagerness he felt from showing.

"Oh, several. We have liturgical texts in the west wing, and histories in the east." She laughed musically as she noticed his eyes flick in the latter direction. "We even have more… esoteric texts, including older treatises on the forgotten schools of arcane magic, but of course we keep those locked up."

"Is that so?" He subdued his disappointment. "Are they well-protected from intruders? Such tomes would be incredibly valuable to the right sorts, and could make this place a target for bandits."

"Don't worry," she reassured him, her eyes locked on his face. "Only a very few people know they exist. We keep them sealed in a library off from the crypts. The doors are locked, and the crypts can only be entered through a stairwell hidden along the ambulatory. I could give you a tour at a later time, if you would like. Perhaps after our evening service?"

"Maybe another day," Simon said. "I can't stay too long this evening – I must report my first findings back to my superior – and I believe I will be returning. Just due diligence, of course."

"Whatever your Father deems necessary." Sister Benevolence continued her tour of the monastery, pointing out the paths that led to the apartments used by pilgrims, opposed by the halls leading to the convent's chambers. Simon followed her dutifully, listening to her explanations, asking pointed questions as their walk took them from room to room. Something struck him as off about the Prioress; she was nothing like the strict matrons back at Olympus City, though few women rose to such high positions in the church back in the capitol. Instead, she showed a rare sort of insight and curiosity that felt sympathetic to his own nature, though that did little to dispel the mystery that she tended to exude.

Over an hour later, as she led him up the stairs to the upper levels of the cathedral, she pointed to the thick wooden doors ahead. "Through there are the rooms for the abbot, though we have been without one for some time. Instead, I have served as the superior for this monastery, just until a worthy candidate is chosen. We do host itinerant priests here occasionally, and speakers from the various Barrier Cities- ah!" She slipped ahead of him, her ankle turning as she fell onto the floor before he could catch her. He hastened to her side, and she turned an embarrassed face his way. "Forgive me, I seem to have lost my footing. Just a moment."

"Allow me to help you," he offered, extending a hand, and she took it with her left, placing her right hand on his left shoulder to leverage herself back to her feet. As she did so, he felt an odd twinge in that shoulder, the muscle spasming, and he restrained a wince, not wanting to bother her by implying she was too heavy to support. Much the opposite; she regained her feet gracefully, testing her ankle by rotating it under her dark skirts. As she was distracted, he did the same with his arm, trying to work the kink out of his shoulder.

"Anyways," she continued, shaking her head at her own clumsiness, "I fear I must prepare for the evening service. Are you sure I cannot convince you to stay?"

"My apologies, Prioress," he replied, shaking his head. "But I will most likely return tomorrow."

"Then I will make time for you then," she offered. "Perhaps I could show you the libraries, hmm?" Her smile was kind, though he couldn't help but feel that warmth didn't quite reach her eyes as she looked at him. She took his cautious affirmative with a nod, and bade him farewell, heading away to speak to a pair of sisters lingering nearby as if waiting to speak to their superior.

A short while later, Simon left the Chapel of Divine Revelation, beginning the long, lonely walk under the evening sun down to the town far below. His mind whirled as he strolled down the road, his staff tapping a steady rhythm beside him. The monastery was not what he had expected, but it showed no signs of being the den of idleness that Lector Themras had suggested. Instead, all of the sisters had seemed quite active, hurrying about their duties, if curious about the Inquisitor their Prioress was leading around. The population of pilgrims had been somewhat healthier than he had first believed; it seemed that many had taken to long stays in the apartments at the monastery before beginning their trek to their next destination, and so many of the nuns were engaged with parties of those travelers, usually young men or older merchants.

He grinned to himself as he remembered seeing the libraries that Sister Benevolence had mentioned, though only the barest of glimpses. The bookcases had been towering, and he knew he could lose himself in there for months. He had said as much to his guide, and she had laughed when he mentioned that he would have to face the wrath of Lector Themras if he succumbed to spending too much time there. He remembered that she had teasingly warned him that "Wisdom has its price," though he couldn't quite remember why that phrase had stuck out to him as much as it had.

Still, perhaps his mission here wouldn't be as bad as he had feared. With that relief, Simon hastened down the mountain, his mind turning to thoughts of a warm meal, time with Gina, and his bed. Above him, the monastery on the mountain cast a long shadow, and the sky's oranges and pinks glowed on the walls like the flames dancing on the flapping banners.

* * *

When Simon made it into the inn, it was much later than he had expected. His report to the Lector had taken a long time, and he had stayed to help the priest read again over several letters, a fresh pair of eyes to search for hidden meanings. Not at all to his surprise, the manuscripts had turned up innocuous: a few faded letters from his deceased daughter and son-in-law, a correspondence with a fellow priest in distant Avalon, notes sent from former parishioners that had moved to a new town, but had sent word on their status and their good wishes back to the old priest. Still, Themras had hounded him as he read over them, demanding he search for meaning behind meaning, as if certain there was something there. Simon was increasingly certain there was not, but he knew better than to suggest such to the older man, whose face was remaining the same red as his beard more and more.

His report about the monastery had all but been ignored. Simon had left out the conversation he had shared with the Prioress about Father Wulfe; he did not want Themras thinking overmuch about kobolds. Still, the Lector had agreed for him to continue his investigation of the monastery, though Simon increasingly believed it was to have him out of Themras's hair. He was curious about how George's hunt had gone, but the Lector did not offer that information, instead driving him onward by shoving new letters in his face until Simon had finally managed to escape.

Now, under a sky darkening to plumskin in the west, he finally found his way to his temporary home, his stomach growling with every jostle. He swung the door open, and stepped into the common room, where flames roared in the wide fireplace beyond tables covered with the last remnants of a dozen men's supper. Behind a counter stood Charles Kramer, polishing a mug. As he saw the younger man, the burly innkeeper raised a hand in welcome, and Simon returned the gesture with a genuine smile. His expression wavered as he noticed the young lady weaving amongst the tables, carrying a tray laden with foaming mugs. The innkeep's daughter, however, only blushed at seeing him, but nodded in his direction. Simon couldn't understand at all why she would seem more ready to face him after that morning's disastrous introduction, but he was willing to forego that awkwardness if at all possible.

"Hey, Simon, over here!" called a familiar voice, and the Inquisitor turned to see George Lambton sitting at a nearby table, a plate picked clean before him and a stout mug in his hand raised high in greeting. George still wore the tabard and colors of a Purifier, but had discarded his leathers in favor of more comfortable attire. Comfort was also the reason he was leaned back in his seat with his feet propped up on one of the other chairs, and his cheeks glowed crimson with a warmth rooted, most likely, in the array of empty cups on the table, and the alcohol tolerance of a young man unaccustomed to having the freedom to drink without the threat of sanctimonious lecturing. "Join me!"

Laughing in resignation, Simon accepted the invitation, even though he was nervous about Gina and the monster hunter being in the same building at the same time. George, he knew, was a novice, just like him, but he still had no intentions of letting his guard down. He pulled out the seat across from George, propping his staff against the next chair, and sat down heavily. His legs were tensing from the climb up and down the mountain, and he feared his calves would rebel in the morning when he had to do it again.

"So," George began, his words slightly slurred. "How's the church on the hill? Lotsa nuns and stuff?"

Simon nodded genially. Actually, that summed it up pretty well. "Lots of nuns, no monsters, if that helps."

"Same in the woods. I mean, not the nuns. No monsters. Nothing. The mercen- I mean, the men-at-arms didn't find anything either." George sighed irritably. "This hasn't been a great assignment so far, if you ask me."

"Well, yeah," Simon agreed, thinking of Father Wulfe's face as the mercenaries had tied him to the stake. "Not what I expected."

Before George could continue, Simon noticed the presence of a person standing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to discover the bespectacled daughter of the innkeep, who was looking at him with a nervous blush. "What would you like?" she managed, her voice trembling a bit, and Simon winced as he remembered once more what she had seen that morning.

"Ah, just something meaty, preferably, and an ale." He tried smiling at her, but she quickly turned and headed for the kitchen. Simon watched her go, sighing in defeat.

"I think she likes ya," George teased from across the table.

"If only," Simon replied, then hastily realized he needed to avoid explaining that comment. "Not many girls go for Inquisitors, it seems."

"That's why Purifiers are the best Order, you know?" George replied smugly, taking a long swig from the mug he held.

"Oh, drowning in the ladies, are you?" teased Simon, and the other man looked away with a crimson-cheeked frown. Simon leaned back in his chair, feeling comfortable around George for the first time since they had met, just before they had departed Olympus City. "Hey, I've got a question. Why did you join the Purifiers?"

The change on George's face was immediate and sharp. "Why do you ask?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Just curious, I guess. I mean, monster hunting seems a little… rough," Simon finished lamely.

"'Cause Purifiers are heroes, don't you know?" George lowered his mug unsteadily to the table so he could point a finger at Simon. "We are the closest to the heart of the church, right? That's what they say. The Martyr himself would've been a Purifier."

Simon nodded. He had heard similar arguments from other young men. Defenders were glorified guards, Crusaders were glory hounds, Hospitalliers were weak nurses, Warders were sneaky cowards, and Inquisitors were snoopy booklovers, but Purifiers were the ideal knights. They were the ones that protected humanity from the monsters in the dark, the dragonslayers, the bane of the undead, the answer to every bump in the night. Still, Simon had met experienced Purifiers before, and they had felt more like murderers to him, at least now that he imagined Gina in front of them.

George was nothing like that yet. This was his first mission, just like Simon, and the only monsters he had fought had been made of straw in his Order's practice yards. Of course, Simon was also a novice, and experienced Inquisitors weren't usually delights to be around, either. Simon was whole-heartedly glad that none of them were present in Videre. He would have ended up on the pyre before the moon could rise.

"So, you found absolutely nothing out there?" Simon changed the subject, and immediately he could see George relax, taking back up his mug.

"Naw, not tracks, not dens, nothing." He paused, frowning. "Well. There was one thing, but I don't know how it has anything to do with monsters." Simon waved him on, but the Purifier took a long time in responding. "It was like… a circle? With lines and shapes, drawn in the ground. Nothing around it, no tracks I could see, but the ground was hard all around, so it was hard to tell. Only prints I saw came from a pair of boots, and I only saw them in one direction."

Cold fear trickled into Simon's gut. "George, that's a magic circle. The tracks only went one way? That's… not good, whatever it is."

The Purifier stared morosely into his now-empty mug. "I was afraid of that."

"Listen, if you find any more of those, you have to tell me. And the Lector." Simon's mind went immediately to the missing pilgrims. While magic was still used by those in the church, it was a very specific type. Arcane magic in general had gradually been outlawed after the days of the Seven Heroes, especially since it was seen as a gateway for demonic energies to corrupt those who used that power. Still, a few hidden hedgemages still practiced the old ways, and the church was quick to discipline those they discovered. Perhaps the missing people weren't due to monsters after all, Simon pondered.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Simon's meal. The young woman carrying the food leaned close to deposit Simon's plate in front of him, and he felt a soft pressure on his left shoulder that sent an overpowering thrill of unexpected pleasure racing up his spine. As he shivered off that intense feeling, he turned to look at the girl, who was regarding him curiously. "T-thanks," he stammered, feeling a tightness in his breeches.

"It's no problem," she said, smiling meekly. She met his gaze for just a moment. "I-if you want, I'll have a tray with some food you can take up to your room as well, in case you get hungry. Oh! And I'll get you another ale, sir," she added for George's benefit, taking up his empty flagon and rushing back towards the kitchen.

"Great service here, eh?" George teased once more, and Simon shook his head, still trying to calm his racing heart. What was that feeling, he wondered, when she had touched him? He shook off the question, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, as he turned to his meal, drawing free a drumstick from a half-chicken and biting into it fiercely. The food was well-prepared, he noted, and nowhere as bland as the food he was used to back at the capitol.

The conversation turned from there to less important matters, ranging from the best places to eat back at Olympus City, to the worst instructors they had had to deal with during their training. Simon found himself relaxing more and more around George, who he discovered had a good sense of humor, even if they didn't share many interests. He almost envied the fact that the Purifier was more pious than he was, but perhaps his own feeble faith came from being a conscript taken from his parents by the church, he reflected with an old bitterness. Still, George made him see why being a Purifier would be appealing; they treated the world like an adventure, and that meant a freedom Simon would not soon see.

Several times the girl returned to the table to refill their cups, but never did Simon have another reaction to her presence, even when she brushed against his arm as she leaned close to deliver George's next drink. She spoke to him more freely as he relaxed, the ale fizzing into his mind, and George's suggestive comments got more and more blunt as the evening dragged on. Once, long ago, Simon had dreamed of settling down with a girl like her, he remembered. That dream had faded much like his childhood fantasy of being a librarian, but still his new friend's comments dragged those ideas back to the fore.

By the time George staggered out of the inn, many of the townsfolk had left the two young men to themselves. Simon had begun to note the disapproving glances that Mr. Kramer was shooting his way, but he had still kept his tongue guarded. He knew better than to betray their trust, even as the room wobbled a bit as he headed for the stairs. He belatedly accepted the tray of night snacks from the girl as she rushed after him, and stammered out his gratitude, which she accepted with a smile, almost as if his lack of composure worked inversely to her comfort with him. The stairs proved a challenge for him as he balanced the tray that held a pitcher of cold water opposite a small platter of snacks, perhaps a supplement for the food they hoped had sneaked to Gina during the day. He arrived at his door without incident, and still had the presence of mind to knock softly before entering, hoping that might put his canine guest more at ease.

Gina stayed out of sight as he entered the room, and her absence sent a shock of sobriety burning through him. He rushed to the corner just in time to notice a pair of furred feet drumming impatiently on his bed, and he sighed in relief as Gina turned to see him with a brilliant smile. He barely had time to set down the tray before the kobold rushed him, flinging herself onto him with a hug. He laughed, staggering, as she rubbed her face on him with a contented grin.

"Sorry I'm late," Simon offered, but she recoiled from his breath, waving a paw in front of her nose. He blushed, realizing she smelled the alcohol on his breath, and turned back to the tray, pouring himself a glass of water that he futilely hoped would help rinse his mouth somewhat clean of the odor. He was still mid-pour when Gina recovered from her overpowered sense of smell, pressing against him once more, holding tightly to his back. "Missed me, huh?" he chuckled. "I missed you too." He was surprised at how honest that statement was, after only a day of knowing her.

Gina was pressed against him tightly enough that he could feel her body stiffen suddenly, and she began sniffing furiously at his back, leaning hard against him. He leaned forward, feeling oddly ticklish under her breath. "What, are you saying that the rest of me stinks too? Give me just a moment, and I'll change into my nightclothes." The innroom featured a small washcloset with a basin and rags, fortunately hidden from the rest of the room, though he wouldn't put it past Gina to try to come in there with him. The warm blurriness of his brain allowed him to wonder for just a moment if that would be so bad.

Gina tugged at his overshirt, and he helped her remove it. "Alright, alright, I'll take the hint," he relented. He started to head for the washroom, but Gina didn't let him escape, yanking at his undershirt. "H-hey, I can take off my own clothes, you don't have to-" He was interrupted as the shirt became tangled, his arms and head and glasses trapped inside the labyrinthine cloth, but as he struggled against his bindings he felt Gina pushing him across the room. "Wait, stop, I can't see!"

He freed himself just in time to see he was standing in front of his bed, and Gina paused only to shove hard against his back. He landed facedown on the mattress, his head swimming enough that he didn't resist as he felt the kobold climb on top of him, straddling his butt as she leaned over his back. "What are you doing?" Simon demanded, craning his neck to see her, but Gina ignored him. He could see just enough of her face to notice that her eyes were widened, as if she were surprised by something she was seeing, but he was too busy trying to decipher her behavior to divine what could have shocked her. "Gina, stop, I need to go wash, let me up."

He froze as he felt one of her paws press against his upper spine, holding him in place, and she shifted atop him. He heard her sniff gingerly at his left shoulder, then recoil, and a low growling from deep within her throat sent a shiver racing up and down the course of his back. "Gina, what's wrong?" he asked, his concern clearing the fog from his mind. Still she didn't answer, but neither did she release the pressure forcing him against the bed. He tensed as he felt her lean closer once more, and his panicked mind made him vision himself as trapped prey before a wolf's fangs. He could feel her breath on the skin of his shoulder, and then- a warm, moist touch, in a long stroke. Gina smacked her lips, as if ridding herself of a sour taste, but then leaned back in. He groaned as he felt her begin to assault his skin with her tongue, lapping repeatedly against him, bathing his shoulderblade in her saliva.

This was hardly the first time Gina had licked him, but this, this was different. Simon writhed under the touch of her tongue, moaning desperately into the blankets beneath him. Pleasure radiated from the places that her softness traversed, the moisture on his skin tingling electrically. As she mechanically lapped at him, he struggled to rise from the bed, his hips bucking unconsciously. Delicious heat flooded his body, and he felt his member jutting roughly into the mattress, a burning hunger consuming his loins. "Oh, Gina," he sighed, looking back to her with lust simmering in his gaze, "that feels nice. Do you – ah! – do you want to pick up where we left off this morning?" He offered her a pleasure-numbed smile, blind to the concern and fear in her eyes.

Instead, she redoubled her efforts, lashing her tongue against him, her teeth scraping his flesh. She was panting soon, both from the licking and from the effort of keeping him restrained as he groaned under her touch, his face flushed with sublime pleasure. Finally, at last, she stopped, regarding his shoulder with an appraising stare, making certain her task was done. Satisfied, she rose off of him, walking over to the tray he had brought and spitting into one of the cups, her saliva splattering violet stains on the glass. She reached for the pitcher of water, now lukewarm, and washed her mouth out several times, spitting into the glass to rid her mouth of the tainted taste of the mark she had cleansed from Simon's back.

On the bed, Simon sighed in exhaustion. The ale and the warmth of the room left his head swimming in deep waters, and he could barely keep his eyes open as fatigue sapped all his strength. He couldn't recall what had just happened, let alone why he needed to rise from the mattress. "Come to bed, Gina," he murmured, wondering where his pillows were as the room faded into darkness.

It was hours later when the kobold followed that command. By that time, she had replaced his nightshirt on him, and relieved him of his breeches, taking a long blushing look at his equipment as payment for her services. She had scooted him into the bed, and now he was lost to the world as midnight flooded Videre with darkness. Still she stood watch, sensing a dark presence at the edges of her sight, until finally it departed. Safe at last, she joined Simon on the bed, hugging him protectively.

Neither of them were awake to notice as the water she had spat into the cup evaporated, the dark ink that had formed the pleasure rune on his back fading into the air with the sickly-sweet scent of overripe fruit and thick perfume.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** At long last, I have passed the hurdle of grades (And on time, for once)! A week and a half of little to no writing has ended - well, will end, after our homecoming festivities tonight. Soon enough I will resume work on this tale, and so I hope to have finished Chapter 5 by Monday. With Christmas Break beginning, I can resume pounding at the keys, and hope that by year's end I will have this story finished... and begin on the next one. Ever onward!_

 _I'll not say overmuch in this note, considering I am surreptitiously typing it during a faculty meeting, but as always, thanks for reading. The story is starting to pick up, but this tale has some big events that are coming in a few chapters, so look forward to that. Also, I love to get comments, especially now that I am starting to reveal more and more details on the backstory of my setting (hopefully interwoven quietly enough not to become boring). So, please let me know what you think!_

 _But, before my principal catches on to the fact I am "taking notes" during small talk, I had best get back to work. And, eventually, I will find time to sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	4. Epiphany

_The boy in the black cloak stood in a flickering ring of light amid utter darkness. In the distance, he could see two other people, also lost, though in different ways. One, a young man, clutched a bow and a torch, and he wandered through woods that clutched and grasped at him, ignorant of the shadow closing in behind him. Further away stood a man of the faith atop a pile of crumbling wood. He laughed out his sermon as the fires rose higher and higher, pressing back the darkness, his face consumed in ecstasy as he burned._

 _The boy glanced down. He held a candle, and it wavered feebly, casting as much shadow as light. "Poor child," a sensuous voice gloated, coming from all around him at once. "Your faith burns so low that you can't see your way out, can you?" He glanced up, and the darkness swallowed everything, even the candle dying down to a glowing wick. "You can't escape me. You were marked for me long ago."_

 _He turned to run, but a chain burst from the shadows, wrapping around his waist and dragging him back. "That cur may have washed away the mark on your flesh, but nothing can clean the mark on your soul. You_ will _be mine." The boy felt his dragging heels slip, as though he stood at the edge of a great precipice, and still the chain dragged him back towards that bottomless maw. "Seek the truth, and you will only find me."_

 _The chain yanked, and the boy fell, his cloak flapping as he plummeted forever._

* * *

When Simon awoke that morning, he felt unsteady, clutching the bed as if glad to not be falling. He gasped for breath, his heart pounding as he came to realize where he was, the memories of the dream that had so shaken him fading like morning mist before he could recall any of it. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind against the headache dawning like the sun, but a pang between his temples sent him reeling against his pillow, and he relaxed back into bed, pressing back against the warmth on his back.

Ah, yes, the alcohol. He must have drank a little too much last night with George, and that had to explain his aching skull. That was surely the reason that he couldn't remember getting into bed the previous night either; he just hoped he hadn't done anything improper towards Gina. She, at least, seemed content to remain where she was, clutching his back tightly. He was appreciative of that, just because that meant he wouldn't have to deal with a repeat of yesterday's erotic morning events, which definitely would have been an issue if he had been facing her.

He vaguely remembered heading to rinse himself off, but a quick sniff suggested he had never accomplished that. Carefully, he slipped from the bed, taking the arm Gina had looped over him and gently lowering it to the mattress. A glance back at her revealed that the blankets had slipped from her, revealing her bare breasts, and he blushed as he tugged the covers back over her, leaving her smiling in her slumber. Quietly, he retrieved his glasses and slipped into the washroom to bathe himself, shivering at the coolness of the water, before toweling dry. As he left to get dressed, he paused to take an inspective sniff of his clothing, which revealed they had fared little better over the past days. It was early enough for him to pay a visit to the stream and wash them before he had to depart to the Lector's temporary home.

With that goal in mind, he dressed himself in his spare attire, and gathered up all of his dirtied clothing. A glance to the clothes atop the unused blankets in the corner reminded him that Gina, too, would likely appreciate having her clothing washed; after all, she had bathed after she left the stables, but he doubted Mr. Kramer had taken the chance to do the same with her wrappings. He added those to the pile, before pausing. One piece of her clothing remained, but retrieving it would be tricky.

He tiptoed to the bed, and lowered the blankets just enough to reveal her neck and the upper limits of her chest. He fought to be as delicate as possible, but he was forced to place his knee onto the bed and lean towards her to reach to the back of her neck, where the buckle for her collar rested. She groaned quietly and shifted, but with deft fingers he managed to undo the buckle and slip the leather collar from her neck. He lifted himself from the mattress subtly, and she settled back into sleep, her fluffy ears flicking minutely.

He glanced down at the collar in his hands. A gold-colored disc hung from the front of it, engraved with the word 'Regina.' He smiled at that; now, at least, he knew her real name, and that thrilled him slightly. He glanced over the collar itself. It was reddened leather, well-maintained and cared for, and he wondered if it had been a gift from Lyra or her parents. The inner portion of the leather was sweat-stained from wear, though he frowned as he noticed a seam that had been cut into it. It ran the length of the collar, and formed a sort of long pocket. He squeezed the collar, and noticed the crinkle of something wedged into the gap between the pieces of leather. For a sharp moment, he remembered Lector Themras's obsessive search of the old priest's writings and letters, and his heart clenched.

He pulled a piece of paper from the collar's unorthodox pocket. It had been folded into a long strip, and he unfurled it to reveal writing on both sides, in two different hands. The first was written in a very formal, old style, the penmanship precise and strongly-flourished:

 _Wulfe:  
I write to you in condolences. You know me not, but know we share an ancient bond of kinship. I speak only to offer a solution to your problem, a path to salvation for your child. I have heard of what has befallen your granddaughter. I cannot stop her metamorphosis, but I can offer a way for her to escape those who would punish her despite her innocence. Send her to me by way of the ancient service tunnels your greatfathers used, where once you played as a child. I will see the girl to safety. Speak not of this note to any, lest you condemn us all._

The brief missive was unsigned, as was the one on the obverse, though Simon had read enough of Father Wulfe's own notes to recognize his hand, heavy and trembling, yet well-shaped.

 _The Watcher in the Shadows:  
I believe I know who you are, and I thank you for your offer. My father spoke of you, our family's own legend, and I understand why you would show such kindness to Lyra, who also did not choose this fate. I, too, would do anything to preserve one I love. Please, save her. I will stay, and accept whatever fate is mine. However, I would also ask, if possible, that you show the same kindness to the girl that bears this message, whom I send to see Lyra arrive safely. I understand if you cannot, and will strive to find another way. You have my gratitude, eternally. _

Scrawled beneath that, as if in response, were only a few words in the original hand: _I am sorry, only one could go_.

Simon frowned down at the paper, the exchange that solved one mystery, and opened several more. Someone, then, had rescued Lyra from Videre, but had not been able to do the same for Gina, and had sent her back with a response, which Father Wulfe may never have seen, or never have had a chance to destroy the evidence it bore. Whoever had spirited Lyra away perhaps remained nearby; these 'service tunnels' would bear greater inquiry. Perhaps this very slip of paper was what Themras was searching for, but Simon had no intention of giving it to him. Instead, he replaced it in the collar's opening after refolding it carefully.

With that done, and his head lost in a maze of thought, Simon returned to gathering up his and Gina's clothing, carefully wrapping her clothes inside his own to hide them from immediate notice on his way outside. He had scarcely opened the door to leave, however, when he nearly collided with the figure outside his door. He quickly recoiled, trying desperately to close the door to his room just in case, but a moment's attention revealed the person in his path to be the innkeep's daughter, and he breathed out a long gasp in relief.

"Sorry," she offered, glancing to the pile of clothes he carried. "I was just coming to see about what you might want for breakfast, and to offer to wash any laundry you might have. We're doing our own today, actually."

"Oh." Simon chuckled at his good fortune. "Yeah, that would be a huge help. Thanks so much for offering!" She reached out to take the bundle from him, and he surrendered it, thinking for a moment about the collar's hidden contents, soon realizing there was little in that missive that needed to stay hidden from the innkeep's daughter. She was already a co-conspirator, and in the worst case he might have to ask her about the service tunnels later anyways. She accepted the clothing, but made no move to leave him, instead looking to the floor with a slight blush as though she wanted to say something.

Simon had a suspicion she might be thinking of their disastrous first meeting. "S-sorry about yesterday," he stammered. "I, ah…" He struggled to think of a way to explain what had happened that did not make things sound exactly as bad as they had been, but his treasonous brain offered him no rescue.

His frantic, futile thoughts were interrupted by giggling from in front of him. "It's okay," the girl assured him. "I stopped by your room yesterday, and Gina helped me understand that everything was fine."

Breathing heavily in relief, Simon put aside his wondering at how, exactly, his mute roommate had accomplished that. "I'm glad for that," he admitted, and she laughed again at his exasperated smile.

"I spent some time with her yesterday," the girl continued. "Oh! Forgive me; I'm Mary." She offered him a laundry-encumbered curtsy, and he responded with a slight bow.

"Simon Hopkins," he replied. "I should have already thanked you, and your father, for helping me with…" He paused, gesturing vaguely towards his room in lieu of a more thorough explanation.

Behind her glasses, Mary's eyes widened. "Oh, but we should be thanking you! It's incredibly kind and brave of you, helping poor Gina. All the other villagers are afraid of you, but Gina helped me see that you aren't anything like the other churchies- I mean-"

Simon waved off her panicked expression with a raised hand. "It's fine, don't worry. I get that we Inquisitors aren't welcome in most places. I know why."

"Well, I just wish everyone else could know what you are really like," Mary replied sadly. "You're no different from any of us. And, what's more, you love books!" She beamed at him, and he swallowed through a tight throat, thinking of the lurid novel he had hidden at the head of his bed. Surely she hadn't found that one. "I'm sorry, I hope you don't mind, but I glanced at some of the books you had laying out. I love reading stories like those whenever I can find them. My favorites are the ones about the Seven Heroes, but my pa has managed to buy a few from merchants about other heroes and battles, even some histories of the ancient nations. Have you read-" She caught herself, a blush lighting her rounded cheeks. "I'm sorry, when it comes to books, I just ramble on and on. Not many people here are interested in those stories."

Simon laughed easily at her embarrassment, glad for once it was on the other foot. "That's fine. Not many back in the capitol are so fond of literature either; their criticisms of that kind of story tend to be, ah, heated? Liturgical treatises, sure, but swords and sorcery aren't worthy topics for most of the teachers and priests. Me, I've loved it since I was a kid. I wish I could have met some of the Heroes during their adventures, and I always imagine what it would have been like to go with them."

"I know! I always liked the Martyr, of course, but either the Priest or the Ranger would be my favorite. The story of the Great Veil is so sad, but I enjoy the ones where they traveled to the different shrines of the gods to get their blessings. And, of course, the big battle against the Demon King- oh, I'm sorry, I'm talking your ear off." Once more, Mary looked to the ground with a blush, and Simon realized she was not used to speaking so enthusiastically. Her quiet nature felt deeply familiar to him.

"It's fine, I like talking about these stories. I know you're busy now, but would you like to discuss them some this evening? If you're free, of course." Simon grinned at her, hoping to put her more at ease, and she rewarded him with a bright smile, albeit a crimson-cheeked one.

"I would like that. Oh, will you have jam again this morning, or would you prefer cheese? I could perhaps sneak in some sausage for Gina." After he gave her his preference, she turned to head for the stairs. "I'll bring your clothes back once I'm done with them."

"Just leave them in my room; I'll be gone to see the Lector. Thanks again." He waved as she headed back downstairs, and he could see that she was still smiling as she turned down onto the next floor. For just a moment, he recalled George's teasing the previous night, and his ears heated as he retreated back into his room.

When he came back around the corner, he found that Gina was already awake, sitting up on the bed, waiting for him. He blushed at her nakedness, and looked around for something to foist onto her to cover her, but she rose from the bed while he was distracted and slipped close to him. Before he could find something appropriate human-shaped to drape over her, she pressed against him, sniffing her way up his back. Simon stiffened, deeply aware that only his clothing was between his skin and the twin softness pressing against his back, but he managed to glance back enough to see her tail wagging, and his heart softened. "Good morning, Gina."

Her response was a soft bark, and she slipped around him to hug him from the front, shaking a bit back and forth from happiness. He reached out to stroke her head, and her fluffy ears perked as she looked up at him. "I've got to go in a moment-" The change in expression was immediate, and drastic, her ears drooping and her lips pouting, and her eyes grew in size. "I know it's earlier than yesterday, but I still have to-" Her face drew nearer, and her eyes larger. "I can't stay long-" Her face was all but touching his now, and all her could see was the chocolate depths of her eyes.

"Fine, I can stay for a bit," he folded, and her smile was brilliant as she leaned close, giving him a peck on the cheek. He laughed, but reached up to touch where she had kissed as she turned and returned to the bed, patting softly beside her to call him over. She slipped under the covers, and raised them for him, though his weak eyes had to look away from the soft curves revealed in the shadows of the sheets. He, at least, was dressed to face the world, but still he laid down upon the mattress, and she immediately snuggled against him, her tail thumping under the blankets.

He stroked her head unconsciously for a moment, his restless heart unwilling to forget he was laying in bed with a naked girl that he was decidedly attracted to – he had no issue thinking that now, blasphemous or not – and his anxiety building as he contemplated his inevitable physical response to her nearness. With that in mind, he leaned away from her for a moment, extending his body over the void beside the bed long enough to grasp one of his books and pull it up with him. Distraction thus secured, he opened the book to read, and petted her head to lull her back to her comfortable cuddling. To his surprise, however, she eyed the bright illustrations of the book as he opened it with interest, her eyes passing over each picture in turn with a contemplative curiosity. "I guess you wouldn't know the stories of the Seven Heroes, being a monster and all," he hazarded, thinking briefly of the priest that had raised her as a counterargument, but she did little to quell his internal debate, staring placidly at him for a moment before returning her gaze to the book. "Fine, then. Do you want me to tell you about them?" She nodded into the curl of his arm, and he flipped through the text, in search of the right story for her.

"Well, there were seven of them – I guess that's in the name, right? – and they were the ones that fought against the Demon King when he tried to destroy mankind." He paused on a page that displayed a painting of the entire group, each faceless and distinguished by their clothing and weapons. Simon balanced the book on his chest so he could point at the picture without moving the arm that was snaked around her shoulders. "That one is the Martyr, the main one. He killed the Demon King in the end, but died doing it." He motioned towards the one in the center, who held a sword that gleamed golden, before pointing to some of the others. "That's the Priest, my favorite, and that one is the Scout… his stories are usually really funny, if you can find a book that has them. No one says much about the Ranger, and the Paladin is kind of boring if you ask me. They say the Conqueror was the Martyr's closest friend, though the stories don't really show it." He noticed her staring at the smallest figure. "That's the Squire. He was the one that survived the battles, and brought their stories back to us." She stared at the featureless boy on the page before glancing to him, an unvoiced question in her eyes, before looking again to the book. Simon pressed on, turning the page.

"The Priest doesn't have a lot of stories to himself; mostly, he just kept everyone else from dying in stupid ways. Still, he's my favorite because he always counseled doing things wisely, instead of rushing in – that was the Conqueror, who always just wanted to kill everything. There was one story, but…" Sighing, Simon flipped further into the book, almost to the end. The picture it bore was of a shadowed figure, from which emanated dark waves of purpled shadow. "One day, after being beaten back to the lands he laired in, the Demon King devised a plan to defeat mankind by turning them into monsters. So, he released a dark power, an evil energy that poisoned those that came into contact with it and changed their forms. The Heroes were immune, but realized that many would die because of it." He turned the page, and the picture on the new pages was of a divine figure in the skies, weeping, over the form of a man in robes, who spread his arms out as if offering himself to the world. "The Heroes couldn't think of a way to stop the Demon King's magic, so it fell to the Priest, who was skilled with magic. He thought of a barrier that would hold back the dark energy, but when he cast his spell, even calling on his goddess, the magic wasn't enough. And so, he sacrificed his life to complete the spell, turning into golden light that flew into the skies as a great shield." The next page displayed just that, with the dark mist recoiling from the barrier, and the Demon King snarling in rage. "That's the Great Veil that they say you can still see far to the east, though I've never gotten to go there myself. I've always wanted to see it, though." He smiled sadly at the page, before glancing to Gina, who was staring up at him. She reached up to pat his head, and he grinned down at her in gratitude. "It's a sad story, but it has a lot of meaning. The Church says it shows that we each don't matter individually, except in what we can do for mankind, but I don't really see that. No, sometimes you have to be ready to give up everything to do the right thing, to save the people you love." He glanced again at the book. "I guess 'love' is the big idea of that story, really."

After that, he fell into silence for a long moment, and still she watched him. Eventually, she leaned closer, and before he was free of his own deep thoughts she pressed her lips gently against his cheek. He smiled shyly at that, but a glance at her face revealed she wasn't done. Instead, she was staring intently into his eyes, as if searching for any reason to hold back, and she found none. She leaned in again, and this time her lips found his own, pressing together in a sweet kiss that lingered for a long minute.

When they separated, he stared at her in surprise, his heart hammering desperately at his ribs as if seeking freedom. He swallowed with difficulty, not looking away from her face, and whatever she saw in his eyes drew a smile to her lips. She leaned in again, a different kind of kiss that nipped at his lip and rubbed her body against his, sending a jerking thrill down his body to his loins. She read his gaze again, biting her lip in eagerness, but paused as she saw the panic on his face. "Gina, I… I can't," he groaned, shaking his head. "That's… I don't know if I can hold back-" She grinned toothily at that, but he pressed on, "And that's not right for you. You have to leave in a few days, to go somewhere safe, and I'll go back to…" What, he wondered, would he go back to? A life hunting those who did exactly what he was doing right now? A life of hypocrisy? Or a life adrift from everything he knew, just like when he had been forced away from his parents? "I have to get to the Lector," he mumbled, slipping away from her, out of the bed. "I'll be back tonight. Stay quiet and safe, and I promise I'll hurry back." He offered her a fragile smile, his heart shuddering at the sadness he saw weighing at her shoulders, but he couldn't go back now.

A moment later he closed the door behind him, leaving behind the girl that watched him go from around the corner, grief written plainly on her face until she returned to the bed, falling onto it and curling into a ball beside the book he had left behind.

* * *

When Simon arrived at the Lector's appropriated home, still lamenting the breakfast he had skipped and other, more important matters, he found that he had arrived just in time to see George departing. The Purifier Errant was frowning, and he barely noticed his comrade until Simon called out for him. George glanced up at his friend with a furrowed brow, but he hastened to meet Simon halfway, speaking as he came close. "Be careful; the Lector is… in a poor mood. But, Simon, it happened again. They found another of those circles."

"They?"

"The mercenaries." George didn't even bother to use the Church-approved terminology this time. "And there's something else. Alvaro was missing this morning; he was one of the mercenaries that went out last night to hunt, but he never came back. None of the others saw him after he left, but they say he wouldn't have quit the mission. He was pretty greedy, apparently, and they say he would have rather died than give up the coin he'd already earned." George stared at Simon, his concern obvious. "Simon, the Lector is right. There is something happening here. Maybe Father Wulfe…"

"Maybe. Maybe not. Those things don't have to be connected," Simon reassured his friend, noticing the relief on George's face at his reassurance. "I haven't found anything, but I will ask the nuns at the monastery if they know anything about runic circles appearing in the forest. Surely this hasn't just started happening now. But if it has, then we know for certain Father Wulfe wasn't involved."

"You're right. You're right," George repeated, nodding to himself. "We don't know who is doing this."

"Listen, if you go out hunting at night, don't go alone. Take one of the mercenaries with you, at least. Stay safe, until we can solve this," Simon warned the other young man.

"I will," George promised. He reached out to Simon, clasping his friend on the shoulder. "Thanks, pal. We'll solve this, and then we'll be big heroes when we go home, right?"

"That's right, we'll be heroes." Simon grinned at the Purifier. "And then you'll get all the girls, just like we said last night."

This made George laugh, and he walked away, heading back towards the road leading out of town. "I'll be out tonight, but soon let's pick up where we left off last night, eh?" With a jaunty wave, the knight hurried onward, and Simon shouted agreement before turning back to the Lector's door.

When he entered the former home of Father Wulfe, his immediate fear was that someone had somehow attacked the place in the moments he had been speaking to George. The house had been ransacked: shelves had been pulled from desks and discarded, upended, on the floor, and every drawer stood wide open. Fallen knickknacks stood like islands in a sea of papers scattered on the floor. Even the table lay on its side, facing the door with its underbelly shamelessly. The only normal thing about the room was the taciturn form of Lector Themras, who sat in the only upright chair in the entire house. The scowling face showed no sign of recognition or greeting, Themras staring without sight at something far beyond the walls of the small home.

"Ah, Lector, I've come for my missions, and to report-" Simon began nervously, looking around still.

"What? Oh, you. Yes…" Themras nodded, but did not look in Simon's direction. "Perhaps you can help me. I have found nothing –yet! Yet! But it is here. The Holy One said…" Themras's head bobbed as he convinced himself. "There is something terrible here, insidious in its cowardice. It is poison to the faith of this region, but I will dig it out, no matter how bloody or long the effort is. Something rooted in history… history, yes." At last, he glanced to Simon, who couldn't help but recoil at the lack of focus in the man's eyes. "History. The nuns in the monastery must keep books, yes? Books about the monastery's construction – perhaps they haven't been confined to the fires. Go back to the monastery, and ask them for tomes about this region's history. Read all you can, and bring back to me everything. Leave no detail out! I must search, and think…"

Simon nodded, clutching his staff tightly, his jaw clenched. He finally managed to muster the courage to ask the question that had been on his mind since he had entered the home. "Lector, are you… alright?"

Long seconds died before Themras responded, as if it had taken him a long time to understand the question. "What? Of course." He turned back to Simon with a fierce scowl that was almost reassuring in its familiarity. "Worry not with me, but with the souls of these poor villagers. You have your task. Do it, and leave me."

Simon nodded, offering his unheeded farewells before quickly departing from the small home. Behind him, the Lector sat, staring into space, his brow furrowed as his eyes twitched, driven by his fevered thoughts. In his lap he clutched a small wooden box, his fingers worrying at it as if touching rosary beads, though whatever comfort it gave him was lost to the tempest of his brain. Simon would be far up the mountain before Lector Themras rose from that seat, and even then his mind would not be free from the thoughts that plagued it with fire and desperation.

* * *

The knock at the door went unanswered, so Mary Kramer pushed it open, entering the room carrying a tray of food atop folded laundry. She glanced about for the young man she had spoken to earlier, but there was no sign of him. Instead, as she rounded the corner of the washcloset's wall, she discovered Gina alone on the bed, the kobold's expectant expression soon falling into disappointment, her eyes faintly reddened.

"Did he already leave?" Mary asked, disappointed herself, and the kobold nodded glumly, leaning back into the bed. The innkeep's daughter could tell something had happened between Gina and Simon, and her feelings were conflicted as she considered what that could be. Still, she lowered the tray of food to a table, and placed the laundry on the dresser, before making her way over to the bed. She brought Gina's own wrappings, and the kobold freed herself from the covers enough to slip into those brief garments, unashamed by her nakedness in the presence of the other girl. With that done, she sighed, her ears drooping, but Mary sat down beside her, a compassionate smile on the human girl's face.

"Let me guess: he thinks too much?" When the kobold rolled her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, Mary laughed out loud. "I've always been accused of that by my pa, but I can tell it's true with him. You can see he's always thinking, but he's got a good heart." At this, Gina nodded, a faint blush on her cheeks. "Could use a better barber, perhaps," Mary mused, thinking of the awkward way his blond hair had been cut into a bowl-shape, and the kobold grabbed her shoulder, offering her an expression of profound agreement.

Mary's own argumentative heart wouldn't let her say much more to comfort the kobold, but she wasn't willing to let the other girl suffer, either. "Well, it's quiet at the inn, so I don't have much to do. Could you use some company?" Gina's response was warm and grateful. "Well, in a bit, if you wanted, I could fetch my brush," Mary said. She reached out to touch the kobold's hair, which had gotten fairly tangled over the past days. Deep down, Mary had always wanted to have a sister, but her ma had passed shortly after she had been born, and her pa had never remarried. She felt a certain filial desire to take care of Gina like Lyra had, especially considering she had previously befriended Father's Wulfe's granddaughter as well. "And if you want, I could stay in here and read to you. I don't think he would mind, and I would love to read some of the books he brought. We don't get a lot of new things to read around here."

Gina nodded, a hint of sadness on her features, but it melted away into a very different expression, and Mary could all but swear there was deviousness in her grin. She glanced at Mary with mischief dancing in her eyes, before turning away to move further up the bed. Her paws scrabbled at the head of the bed, pressing the mattress away from the wall it rested against, until she emerged with a thin novel in her grip. She turned back to Mary with a triumphant smile, proffering it to the other girl.

" _The Knight of the Pink Lily_ ," read the maiden hesitantly, noting the illustration upon the cover with a mixture of disdain and perverse excitement. The front of the book depicted a knight, reduced to his leather jerkin and breeches, staring heroically with chin jutting into the distance with his hand upon the hilt of his sword, his other arm around a young woman, who stared up at him with a mixture of longing and adoration, her clothing somewhat abbreviated and decidedly clingy. "Is… is that Simon's?" Mary asked with an incredulous blush, and Gina confirmed it with a conspiratorial nod and grin. "Well… I guess it couldn't be that bad, then…" Mary relented, taking the novel from the kobold cautiously. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

Gina nodded enthusiastically, settling back into the bed, and Mary cracked open the cover. She began reading in a soft voice that would, many times over the next hours, range from seat-edged interest to mocking exaggeration to scandalized laughter, and all the while Gina curled up next to her, listening with an encouraging grin, her own private revenge, as small and meaningless as it was, accomplished. The two girls made it far into the lurid tome before Mary had to leave to help her father in the kitchen to prepare lunch, but she promised to return to finish the book, and to bring her brush with her when she did, and Gina hugged her as she left.

This time, when Gina was left alone, she had conquered her doubts and fears. She was certain of her course now. She just had to convince him, and she knew she could.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Ah, Christmas Break, how I have longed for ye. After the absolute fusillade of grading and ballgames and faculty meetings, I am finally able to write once more. And write I have; just this morning alone, I'm composed ten pages of Chapter 6, and feel pretty confident about the quality of it. After a few nights of solid sleep, I hope to make great progress over the next while, but time will tell. I need progress, since this story will almost certainly be longer than_ Not Alone _, especially since I have yet to fully introduce one of the most important characters. For now, though, just know that I will be back Friday with Chapter 5, the longest yet._

 _In the hopes of resuming my writing all the sooner, striking while the mental metal is hot, I will cut this note short. Again, as always, I appreciate the comments I get from you all, especially from the last chapter. Thank you for reading, and I shall return soon!_

 _Break has begun, and I have SO much writing to do before I sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	5. Rapture

When Simon arrived at the monastery, he was quick to discover that he had been expected. He had barely entered the narthex when he noticed one of the nuns rushing off into the nave, probably hurrying to tell the prioress that he had arrived. Smiling despite himself, Simon looked around the entryway, discovering that fewer pilgrims stood around waiting, and those that did were deep in conversation with black-clad sisters. Most likely, the next wave of pilgrims would come with the caravan due in a few days, and many of those who had been waiting around the previous day had already received their own tours of the Chapel of Divine Revelation.

To his surprise, the person that soon emerged from the inner narthex and angled towards where he was standing, inspecting a tree laden with owls carved into one of the wooden walls, was not Sister Benevolence, but instead another of the nuns, albeit one that walked with greater confidence than many of the bowing forms he had seen during his previous visit. Under her wimple, her face was sleek and sharp-cheeked, and her blue eyes were lit by a light that seemed almost out of place on the face of a nun. "Brother Hopkins, I am Sister Faith. I have been asked to convey you to the prioress's offices. If you would follow me?" Simon nodded, surprised at the flippant lilt in the woman's voice that contrasted with her servile words; perhaps she was a newly-come novitiate not used to the humility of the sisterhood, he mused.

Once again he made his way past the statue of the Martyr and the other Heroes, and again into the airy nave, following close at the heels of Sister Faith. He glanced at the stained glass windows as they paused, on second viewing recognizing a few of the scenes they depicted: the Conqueror's battle with the Demon King's mate, his spear piercing her heart; the divine empowerment of the Paladin, when he had fought one-on-one against the Demon King; even the Martyr's final battle, standing atop the body of the Demon King, bleeding out his last as he raised his sword defiantly against the new Demon Queen. It was interesting how much detail had been put into that final image, especially the Demon Queen's form: he had always seen her depicted as a vague winged shape, but here she was shown with long white hair and crimson eyes glaring down confidently.

He followed Sister Faith further into the cathedral, and soon enough they traversed the narrow staircase that led upstairs towards the unoccupied abbot's chambers. When they reached the place where Sister Benevolence had fallen on his first visit, the nun walking ahead of him led him instead to the other side of the stairwell, where side doors suggested small offices flanking one larger chamber. They entered that room, which was a small foyer with ornate, though uncomfortable-looking, chairs facing a door carved of rich wood. At that, Sister Mercy paused, and Simon drew near to her, waiting for her to knock at the door. Instead, she whirled to face him, and he caught a glimpse of a sharp smile on her lips before it faded. "Pardon me, I must see if the prioress is free. If you will wait here just a moment; please have a seat." She reached out and patted roughly on his left shoulder, which made him frown at her, but she didn't notice, instead opening the door ahead and slipping inside.

Feeling oddly defensive, Simon refused her suggestion of sitting, instead standing and facing the door stiffly. He had questions about Sister Faith's education as a nun, and prayed she never met Lector Themras. Shaking his head, he went over in his head the questions he would be offering the prioress when she summoned him. The Lector had been especially insistent on learning the history of this region, but Simon had questions of his own to answer. The note that he had found in Gina's collar had mentioned service tunnels, and he had a suspicion that might be connected to the monastery itself.

When the door opened, Simon answered Sister Benevolence's summon by stepping into the office beyond. Sister Faith exited as he entered, brushing against his left side as she did so, and so he stepped further to the side, glancing after the nun as she left, unconsciously tapping his staff against the floor. As she closed the door, he looked at the prioress, who was rising from her seat to walk towards him. She had been seated at a large desk, carved from a rich dark wood and embellished with avian forms, mostly the peering visages of owls. For just a moment, he blinked at that, his memory stirring at something that he couldn't yet grasp, but his rumination was interrupted by Sister Benevolence placing her hand gently on his left shoulder. "Come, come, have a seat," she prompted, her eyes watching his face closely. He glanced at her with a grateful smile, and accepted the offer, ignorant to the alarm flashing in her eyes at his composed manners. He settled into a seat in front of the desk, leaning his staff against the chair next to him, not noticing the way the prioress's eyes narrowed as she stared at him, or the way she sniffed subtly at the air.

"So," she began, a forced smile pressing its way onto her lips, "what brings you back to our humble monastery? Returning to continue your investigation?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Although I must admit, I have some new orders to pursue as well," Simon responded with a nod. "Lector Themras has asked that I research the history of this region, to gather information for our inquiry. Would you happen to have books that could help me with that?"

"Of course," the prioress replied, motioning vaguely in the direction of one of the libraries she had showed him the previous day. "We have histories ranging from regional lore, to the development of Videre itself, to the reconstruction of the monastery after it was damaged during the Last War of the Demon King by a dragon."

Simon leaned forward, unable to hide his curiosity. "All the way here? I didn't think any of the wars against the monsters reached this far west."

Sister Benevolence nodded, taking on a lecturing posture that was more teacher than priestess. "After the Great Veil was created, the Demon King lashed out against the goddess that had empowered the Priest, attacking her churches, this one in particular. Fortunately, much of the building was saved, including many artifacts of the Priest himself – before you ask, I'm afraid we keep them locked up in a chamber beyond the abbot's offices, to keep them from being damaged by well-meaning worshippers – and the crypts below, which were… expanded." She smiled at that, looking at him over her nose. "That is where we keep the forbidden texts that I mentioned before. If you would like…"

"Another day," Simon agreed, his brow furrowed in distracted thought. "I presume the monastery was rebuilt by the Church of the Holy Martyr, correct? I know the old religions faded after the Last War of the Demon King, as the gods and goddesses vanished. Actually, which goddess was this originally dedicated to, anyways?"

"Oh, my," the prioress replied, tapping her chin with a faint smile. "I know, of course, but isn't that curiosity akin to heresy? Your church demands that those old gods be viewed as mere precursors to the faith of today, and thus largely forgotten."

Simon's eyes snapped back to her over the rim of his glasses, his distracted mien vanishing. "'My' church?" He stood, noting the way her face paled, one of his suspicions confirmed. "You're right, of course. The priests of the Church of the Holy Martyr would treat continued worship of those deities… harshly. Lector Themras in particular." His smile was not kind, and his eyes flicked to the owls that decorated her desk, which he knew to be the mark of one of the vanished gods. He had read that in one of the books his parents had left him, though it had taken him some time to recall it.

Sister Benevolence was slow in responding, leaning back in her seat to view him with new respect. Her expression narrowed as she frowned. "What sort of man is this Lector, anyways?"

"Faithful. Strictly so."

"So, the sort of man that would hunt for impiety even among his closest allies? Even his own servants?" Her lips perked sharply at the cloud on his face. "I will keep that well in mind, as should you. You have my thanks."

Simon met her stare for a long moment, his expression hiding his inner turmoil. He had not intended this conversation to continue as it had, but he knew he was on to something. Unfortunately, so was she, and he did not know how. He kept his face composed, but he didn't look away from her eyes. "Well, that said, I would prefer to take care of the research he expects, to save him the task of journeying up here himself." At that, she nodded in mutual agreement. "I will see myself to the library, unless there is something else you would care to add to aid my search?"

At that question, Sister Benevolence took a moment to think. "Only that the reconstruction of the monastery was extensive, to make a holy site in honor of the Priest's sacrifice. Still, it was an effort of great expense, perhaps out of line with the small number of worshippers this region can provide. Why spend so much, to benefit so few, when no such effort was made for the homes of the other Heroes? That is a mystery that has always hounded me." She shrugged slightly, turning her face away. "Of course, any answer to that probably would be found-"

"Let me guess." Simon stared at her with a tight smile. "The forbidden library, in the crypt?" She nodded indifferently, but he laughed at her poor acting. "Perhaps another day I will visit it. Maybe my Purifier friend wouldn't mind accompanying me."

Her eyes narrowed at that. "I would have thought such a man would be busy searching for the missing monsters. Like that kobold, for one."

Simon refused to wince. "We shall see," he responded, mentally deciding never to accept the prioress's offer to visit that secluded location. He felt conflicted, feeling like he was on the cusp of forcing her to reveal something important, but knowing that doing so might put himself in danger – and Gina. His heart sinking at the thought of the kobold's exposure, he nodded. "If you will excuse me, I must continue my search."

He turned and left the office, his staff tapping on the floor as he walked, but not loudly enough to drown out her soft words as he reached the door. "Never forget, child: Wisdom has its price. You will learn that in time." He paused at the door, but did not turn to face her. Instead, he opened the door, and stepped out into the landing, his thoughts chasing him from her office like the whisper of dark laughter he surely only imagined that he heard.

* * *

The sunlight that flowed into the innroom was darkening to orange when Gina's ears perked at the sound of the door to the inn room opening. She looked about for a place to hide, but the faint scent that preceded the intruder put her at ease. Simon walked into the room, arriving back hours earlier than the previous day, but weariness was written on his face. He still smiled broadly at Gina as he entered, and she rushed to him, her tail wagging her pleasure at seeing him again.

He chuckled as she launched herself at him in a hug, and patted her hair gently. It felt to him like her touch bled the tension out of him, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head, returning her embrace. "Have a busy day?" he teased as they separated, and she barked in response, her eyes darting to the head of the bed where she had re-hidden the book she had convinced Mary to read to her. He laughed in ignorance, leaning his staff against the wall as Gina plopped down on the bed, watching as he stripped off the more cumbersome parts of his attire. He sat down next to her, pulling off his boots, and she leaned her head against him, sniffing cautiously, relieved not to detect the bittersweet scent of the rune that had been placed on him the previous evening.

Finally stripped down to his more casual underclothes, Simon fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts still whirling. He had found little in the library to answer the questions that his conversation with the prioress had left him with, and had scarce knowledge to offer Lector Themras, who had seemed even more distracted that evening, deep in meditation when Simon had arrived, and quick to return to it before the Inquisitor had even left. Themras had at least straightened Father Wulfe's house, though the papers were all absent, likely condemned to the fireplace. Still, Simon's concerns remained mostly on Sister Benevolence. Their conversation had been tense, but illuminating, even though he still chewed on their exchange.

A fluffy head nuzzled against his shoulder, and he clutched Gina closer to him as he began to think aloud. "I don't think the sisters at the monastery are what they say they are." Gina stiffened at that, looking closely at his face. "I think they are worshippers of the vanished gods. There's nothing wrong with that, exactly; the Seven Heroes worshipped the same gods, after all. It's just that the Church of the Holy Martyr tends to look upon it… negatively." Gina glanced down, and he would bet her thoughts turned to Father Wulfe, much like his own. "Still, that means they have things to hide, and the pilgrims that are disappearing might be connected somehow." He sighed. "And I think, somehow, she knows about you."

Gina's soft growl drew his eyes. He looked down to see her staring at him intently. She reached up to tap her nose, and he shook his head, confused. "Smell? No, Sister Benevolence is human. She couldn't smell you on me…" His eyes widened. It was possible to detect monstrous presence through the energies they left behind, although that magic was rare and difficult to cast, and taught only to the highest priests for that reason. George, for example, wouldn't know it. Simon didn't either. The Lector might- Simon's heart clenched, and he muttered a fervent prayer that the priest never thought to cast that spell around Simon, if he did know it. It was good that Themras had been distracted recently.

Sister Benevolence had mentioned that the library in the cathedral's catacombs had a stock of tomes on ancient magic. It would have been easy enough for her to learn it by reading through those tomes, and she might have the power to cast it, as someone so highly ranked within the monastery. That thought peaked his curiosity at the forbidden library, but he knew better than to accept the prioress's invitation to visit it; those had begun to strike him as rather sinister. Still, he felt that the answers he sought might be found there. He needed to see it, but perhaps without one of the nuns going with him…

He smiled at that thought, glad for once for the training he had received to become an Inquisitor. He had a bit of a talent for magic, learning it quickly, even if he was never able to conjure forth spells with quite the power of his peers. There had been a few spells in particular he had used on his worst days back in his training: _Passage of the Faithful_ and _Blindness of Impurity_. With those, he could unlock doors, and evade sight for a short while. If he waited until the monastery was quiet, perhaps he could slip unseen into the catacombs, and find the answers for himself.

He blinked as he noticed Gina petting his head. In the depths of his thoughts, he had stopped stroking her, and she had instead began to pet him. "Sorry, Gina, I've just got a lot on my mind-" he started to apologize, but she shook her head, rising from the bed. Instead, she pulled him to his feet, and guided him to lay back down in a new fashion. Simon blinked as he found himself laying with his head resting upon her thighs. Before he could say anything, she plucked the glasses from his face and placed them on the nightstand before beginning to stroke his hair again, and he closed his eyes, relaxing against her.

His eyes opened minutes later as she tugged at his hair, and he noticed she was looking at him curiously, turning her head this way and that, placing her paws against the sides of his face as if imagining what he would look like with longer hair. "What, don't you like my haircut?" he asked, slightly offended, and she raised one eyebrow pointedly before returning to her inspection. "Fine, the next time I visit the barber…" His heart clenched. The next time, she wouldn't be there to see it. She would be leagues away from here, and he would be back in the capitol, an Inquisitor once more, if he had ever been one at all.

She paused in her stroking, and looked at him carefully. He met her gaze with sad eyes. "I'm sorry. I think too much." She nodded, but her expression was serious as her paw pad stroked his cheek. He nuzzled against it, taking comfort in the touch as he fought down the ache in his heart. "I… don't know what to do any more. I just feel lost." He squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing ragged. She leaned over him, rubbing her paw against his chest, pressing against the tense, stubborn muscles, and he sighed in gratitude.

Her caresses lulled him into a doze, though his mind still felt hounded as it faded into darkness. When he opened his eyes again, the air beyond the room's window had deepened into shadow, but still Gina petted him, and he was slow to rise, his fatigued mind put to thoughtless rest. Finally he leaned up, smiling gratefully at her, and she drew close, hugging him to her. In that moment, in that embrace, he found peace. "Thank you," he murmured into her shoulder. He hugged her back, squeezing her against him hard enough to feel her heartbeat. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had found a place where he belonged, and he nuzzled her neck in happiness, not thinking, just feeling. Gina had become his only source of stability, and he felt like holding on to her forever. "I love you."

They both stiffened at that. He drew back, finding her staring at him with wide eyes. He met that stare for a long moment, fully awake now, his heart sending fresh blood racing into the dusty corridors of his brain. He had not meant to say that. He had not planned it. He had meant it, certainly, but that did not mean it was right of him to say it. She was the first thing in his life in years that made him feel happy, made him feel welcome and worthy. Though he had only known her for days, he knew leaving her would hurt him worlds more than leaving behind anything since his parents. Still, he would have to leave her, and so he shouldn't… She was drawing close to him, her face tilting, not in curiosity, in certainty, and he surrendered to her better wisdom.

This was not their first kiss, but it was the first time they kissed like lovers, slow and passionate and deep. He didn't move any part of his body but his face, lost entirely in the sensation of her lips on his, her tongue flicking against his, the taste of her and the smell of her. She led the way, wrapping her arms under his, pulling them closer as she pressed against his mouth harder, moving slowly but with purpose. He melted against her, finally wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her closer, his hands rubbing greedily against her shoulders.

Ages must have passed before they broke apart, their chests both heaving for breath, but Simon could see in her eyes that Gina was far from finished, and that excited him like electricity racing through his nerves. She leaned closer, nipping and kissing and licking at his neck, and he craned his head back, gasping at the feeling. Urgent need rose up within him, forcing the protesting bits of his brain into a closet in his skull and barring the door. When she leaned back, ready to return her lips to his, he pressed forward, kissing her roughly, catching her lower lip between his teeth and nibbling gently. It was obvious from her needy whimper that she enjoyed that, but he didn't stop to repeat it, instead exploring her mouth with his tongue as he felt her claws press against his back in a sweetly-slow rake.

When they leaned back, he stared at her, savoring the lust in her eyes, but his eyes widened as he noticed her paws slip from his back to reach for her sides. His swallowed loudly as he noticed her hook her claws under the edge of the cloth she wore wrapped around her breasts, and her eyes drank in his excitement as she began to lift higher, revealing pale flesh-

A knock at the door made them both freeze. "Oh, damn it all!" he hissed, trembling in rage at the interruption. Gina sighed irritably as she hid around the corner from the door, and Simon fought not to stomp over to the door, not to fling it open, and only partially succeeded. He stared out into the hallway at the girl who waited there, heavily encumbered with a large tray, and despite his displeasure he nodded greetings at the sheepish smile Mary Kramer was offering him. "Ah, dinner; I never came down for it," he remembered. His early return to his room had brought him back before the evening meal was ready, and so he had told Charles that he would be back for food later. It looked like Mary had decided to bring it to him, and brought Gina's meal with it. "Thanks, I appreciate that. I, ah, dozed off..."

"That's alright!" Mary replied cheerfully, stepping past him to carry the tray into the room. "I don't mind bringing it up, since I have to bring up Gina's anyways." The brown-haired girl nodded brightly to the kobold as she passed, ignorant of Gina's frustrated stare and drumming claws. "It's quiet downstairs anyways. Apparently the Lector has started coming out and talking to people about strange things, so a lot of the townsfolk are staying in as much as they can. Forgive me, but he's not a very… nice man."

"That's putting it lightly," Simon admitted, stepping over to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses. "And there are plenty just like him back in the capitol. It seems like that happens to those who get higher in the church."

Mary nodded, but she frowned as she lowered the tray to the table. "My pa says that faith can raise a man above earthly matters, but that makes him see the rest of us as lower than him. Only the best can have their heads in the heavens and their feet on the ground." She removed the lid from the tray, revealing two bowls of a thick, meaty stew that immediately filled the room with a rich scent. "Do you think the Heroes were like that?"

Simon scratched his chin, not noticing the way Gina covered her face with her paws and sighed in defeated lust. "Well, maybe. Some of them, perhaps; the Priest never struck me as being too lofty. After all, a lot of his stories deal with him helping people suffering after monster attacks. Others involve him giving advice to people wanting to protect themselves."

"That's true," Mary admitted, placing spoons in the bowls and lifting them. "Are there any stories about that in the books you have? I've never read about that."

"Yes, actually. Let me see…" Mary waited, bowl in hand, while Simon stooped to dig through his books. Gina watched him, before glancing to Mary, who didn't meet her eyes. "Ah, here it is." Simon hefted one of the books, flipping through it before extending it to Mary, exchanging it for one of the steaming bowls of stew. "You can always read my books whenever you would like, you know."

"Thank you! Actually, I did just that today. I stopped by and read to Gina," Mary explaining, smiling at the kobold, who returned the expression magnanimously, beginning to forgive the other girl for her possibly-innocent interruption.

"Oh? Which one did you read?" Simon asked innocently. No answer was forthcoming for a long moment, and he frowned at the color in both Mary's and Gina's cheeks, and the way they would not meet his gaze. "That way I won't start to read it to her myself," he explained, but they persisted in their stubborn silence, finding the mundane furnishings of the room profoundly interesting all of a sudden. Realization sparked in him like dreadful lightning, and he glanced at the head of the bed. "Oh hells." Surely they hadn't found the dirty little book he had hidden… When Gina began to slink off the bed, making for the washcloset, he closed his eyes and growled out a sigh. "Please tell me that you didn't…"

"It was fine!" Mary reassured him. "It was a nice story and all. I mean, the writing was a little flowery and rather descriptive, but it was sweet!" She choked back a laugh. "Like when the knight told the lady that she had 'breasts as white as fresh-fallen snow.'"

Simon waited with the patience of stone as both girls lost their composure and began to openly laugh. "Or when the lady talked about hefting his mighty lance…" Mary gasped, trying to restrain the laughter that shook her frame. Gina had no such tact, laughing openly as she crawled back up the bed, dragging the embarrassing tome from its safe crevice and flipping through the pages. She quickly found what she was seeking and thrust it towards Mary, who glanced at it and burst into further laughter, unable to explain what had so amused her as her face brightened to crimson. Grumbling, Simon took it from her unresisting hands, and discovered it to be the part where the narrator had described the lady's 'flower,' using an extended botanical metaphor that Simon, at least, had found rather tasteful.

"Okay, okay, laugh all you want, sure," Simon muttered, and both girls enthusiastically complied. When they at long last began to calm, gasping for breath, he glared from one to the other, his ears burning like torches. "Give me a break. I lived in a dormitory with dozens of other guys for years. Of course I'm going to be curious about romance, and I didn't exactly have a better way of learning about it. I'm afraid such books don't make it on the church's recommended reading lists." He huffed in embarrassment, but jumped as he felt a paw softly stroke against his lower back. He glanced to the side to see that Gina, still with tears on her cheeks from her earlier hilarity, was giving him a much more serious smile, and he could read the offer in her eyes; she would be happy to give him a much more effective education in that sort of love, he surmised, and his blush returned.

"It's okay, I swear! I've read a book like that myself," Mary confessed. "It was just so awkwardly phrased that we couldn't help but laugh." Her smile wavered a bit as she looked at him, suddenly afraid that the ease Simon made her feel might have pushed her and Gina too close to bullying him. "Please don't be angry with us."

Simon sighed, shaking his head, but he couldn't keep a self-conscious grin from his face. "It is pretty florid," he admitted hesitantly. "But the action was good in it!" He paused, and his cheeks reignited. "I mean, not that kind of action-!"

This started a new round of laughter, and this time Simon joined in. Their conversation soon turned to safer topics, much to Simon's relief, as Mary sat down and joined them, talking together far into the evening. By the time Mary hesitantly left after her father came to their door to summon her for the evening's cleaning, it was late enough that Simon's eyelids were hanging heavily. Gina, on the other hand, had curled up onto the stack of blankets off to the side and dozed off, snoring softly, her legs twitching gently every now and then. Wearily stripping to his undershirt and placing his glasses on the nightstand, Simon knew he needed to wake her and bring her to bed, but he paused to lay down and stretch his aching legs for just a moment. Fatigue settled into his muscles, and he looked blearily to the ceiling through the dancing light of the last candle. He needed to get Gina, at least carry her over to the bed so she could sleep with him, but…

The two were lost in sleep for a long time, the sky outside darkening to black as the wind gusted against the window. Far in the distance, the heavens grumbled in a bass voice, heralding a distant storm, but here the only sign was the swaying branches of the forest beyond the window. Even the sounds of the wind streaming through branches was held off by the window, leaving the room in silence save for two rhythmic choruses of slow breaths.

Hours passed as the taper burned lower and lower, until, with a shocking suddenness, the flame died, as though it had been snuffed out. Shadows soaked into the room, and Simon's brow furrowed in his sleep. Tormented by dreams, he couldn't see the dark figure standing at the foot of his bed, watching him with unwavering intensity. That figure drew closer, beginning to take form, circling the bed with arms outreached as if preparing to lift his slumbering body from the mattress.

The shadowed shape paused at the sound of soft growling. Its form hazy and indistinct, it would have been impossible to tell that it turned to face the opposite direction, if not for the violet eyes gleaming out of the darkness. Those eyes widened as they saw the girl standing across the room, her white teeth bared, her dark eyes all but glowing amber with an inner light. Gina took a threatening step forward, her paws tensed into claws, her growl deepening at the rolling laughter she barely heard. Before she could rush forward, however, the shadows exploded outward, a sudden tempest in the room that opened books and toppled candles, pressing the kobold back a step, before the room's window burst open, and the shadows fled into the night.

Gina closed the window, glaring out into the darkness. She stood there for a long time, glancing back and forth between the swaying trees and Simon's slumbering form, her nostrils flaring as she sniffed at the air. Finally she returned to her blankets, but did not lay down, instead sitting rigidly, keeping watch over Simon's sleeping body. She looked longingly at the place next to him, but dutifully kept to her post, guarding him.

The sky had begun to lighten before she stumbled into bed, curling up against his back and clutching him protectively, breathing in his scent with an exhausted contentment. Soon, once more, soft breathing sang through the room. This time, their sleep would not be disrupted.

* * *

 _The boy in the black cloak staggered into the monastery, gripping at the chain that pulled him forward. The dark links were wrapped around his waist, and he yanked at them, but they clutched to him like a needy lover. He couldn't see where they ended; the chain stretched taut into the dark distance, pulling him relentlessly onward into the shadows._

 _As he struggled futilely against the chain's grasp, he was pulled further into the building. He passed statues on plinths, though several were toppled, lying shattered on the ground. A broken stone bow lay before the feet of one of the remaining statues, the smallest, which glowed gold in the darkness._

 _The chain pulled him into the nave, where dark forms huddled against the walls. Several were men, stripped bare and groaning in mindless pleasure, tended to by shrouded forms that writhed obscenely against them, yet turned to look at the boy with gazes that glowed in the darkness, wide and round like the eyes of owls. High on the walls, the stained glass windows glowed with the pulse of thunder, revealing blasphemous majesty: a knight and a spearman crumpled and bloody under a clawed foot, and, worst of all, a swordsman in the throes of passion, being ridden by a pale-skinned woman with crimson eyes and white hair, her mouth open in sinful ecstasy._

 _Still the chain pulled him onward, past the pulpit where a ghostly form preached wisdom and peace, ignored by the shadows, and the boy felt a deep kinship that resonated within him, giving him strength. The chain was tireless, however, dragging him to the ambulatory, and to a secluded door, down hidden stairs into dank passages like caverns, pale bones mingling wantonly on the uneven floor. Finally he came to an open chamber, at the end of which was a locked door, under which gleamed an unsettling light. The chain did not extend that far, however. Instead, it dove into a hole in the floor, which was framed with a circle that glowed with arcane light. The boy fought as he was brought closer and closer to the pit that yawned like an open maw, and from within he could hear cries of pleasure mixed with satisfied moans._

 _As he looked into the swirling depths, he heard a sensuous voice speak directly into his ear, and he shook with fear. "Welcome home." And then he fell forward, forever, tumbling without end._

* * *

George Lambton had a secret. He had spent the last few years afraid of discovery, ever since he had risen from being a Page to join the ranks of the Purifiers. His training had passed in tortuous tension, as he was paranoid of his truth being revealed. He feared detection would mean his life would change in dreadful ways, and so he put on an act to conceal the truth, even from himself.

Here, though, under the shining moonlight in the dark wilderness of the forest surrounding Videre, he could drop the façade. He had no fear of being seen, of his reality being revealed. And so, he unveiled himself to the shadowed night, and felt at ease.

In his hands, he clutched, not the sword that was the symbol of his Order, the weapon of a hero, but instead a bow. He was ashamed, but he had known since he was young that he had a gift, a skill with a weapon meant for cowards and weaklings. He had a talent for tracking, adept in passing through wilderness undetected, and could easily bullseye a target at forty paces. In truth, he should have been chosen as a Warder, but had hidden his skills to become what he had always dreamed of, a Purifier, his ambition since childhood. And so, he kept his aptitude a secret, even from those he trusted.

Slinking through the forest, though, he clutched his favored weapon tightly, arrow nocked and ready. There was something fell in the air that night, beyond the howling wind and the spreading clouds that consumed the light of the stars, though fortunately left the moon untouched. He looked around warily, listening with body tensed, a faint smell in the air shaping his course. He heard a sighing breath beyond a nearby tree, and slipped through the underbrush fluidly, coming around the gnarled pillar with bow at the ready, pausing to gather himself before the final bend.

He sprang, coming around the tree with bow level with his eyes, only to freeze as he recognized the shape in front of him. Not a yard away stood a man in armor, a glowing cigar drooping from his slackened lips, and his dark eyes stared widely at the tip of the arrowhead aimed just above his bulbous nose. "Damn, boy, you about made me piss meself!" the mercenary swore, skillfully snatching the crude cigar out of the air as it began to plummet earthward, only to singe his finger on the glowing ash at the end. "Ack, by me mother's teats-!"

"Sorry, sergeant," George offered, though his tone did little to hide his exasperation. He had left Sergeant Pascual and the other mercenary, Manuel, to hunt on his own. The mercenaries were skilled and experienced warriors, but woodsmen they were not. George knew any prey they might find in these trees would long hear them coming, and so he had split off from the other men. He still remembered Simon's suggestion, and honored it by staying fairly close; the other Errant was very smart, and George respected his advice. Still, he couldn't help but feel he would have better luck in these woods without his two stomping bodyguards.

"Sorry, lad, just stopped to have me a little smoke. Helps me stay awake, y'see." Pascual offered George a dirty-toothed grin before taking another long puff off the burning cigar.

George ignored his excuses, well used to corralling the easily-distracted mercenaries. Instead, he glanced around at the nearby trees, searching for the other man. "Where's Manuel?"

The sergeant shrugged, souring his scarred face into a scowl. "Hell if I know. Probably off relieving himself; poor bastard never could handle his liquor without nearly shitting himself the next day." George shook his head at the man's coarse laughter, trying not to think about that, especially in light of his own feeble stomach after his drinking with Simon the previous night. The inn's ale had tasted great, at least on the way down. In reverse, less so, at least from what little he remembered.

"Let's look for him. We don't need to split up now, especially after Alvaro disappeared. I've got a bad feeling tonight." George led the way, hoping to find some sign of Manuel's passage.

"Hells, I've had a bad feeling since I took this job," grumbled the sergeant as he followed the younger man, taking a deep puff from his cigar before grinding it against a tree as he passed and flicking the butt into the darkness. "It'd be nice to have a good feeling for once."

As the two wandered deeper into the forest, even the keen ears of the Purifier missed the soft rustle of black wings overhead, and the shadow that streamed across the sky, covering some of remaining stars for just an instant in a line leading away from Videre and deeper into the forest.

* * *

Manuel didn't want to admit it, but he was lost. He had gotten separated from his sergeant when he had stopped to take a leak, and the sour old man had wandered off, probably to find somewhere to set up camp with his odious cigars. Manuel didn't necessarily blame him; after all, this job was garbage, hunting for monsters in the dark. So far, they hadn't found them, but what if they did? At the least, for the past few days they had been babysitting the kid instead of taking orders from that crazy priest, but even that was tiresome. The kid was a pretty good hunter, as good as any Manuel had met in his home country, but he had a lot to learn about how the world worked. He could start with the fact that work is better avoided than pursued, Manuel mused with a chuckle, distracting himself from his surroundings.

He raised the torch he carried suddenly, hearing a rustling in the trees beyond the edge of his vision. He squinted into the darkness, trying to detect movement as his hand slipped to the truncheon he had strapped to his hip. Something was definitely coming closer, and he planted his feet, holding his weapon aloft. "Sarge, is that you?"

A form burst from the trees, and he drew his weapon back, only to freeze as the shape collapsed at his feet. His eyes struggled to make sense of the black-clad figure panting for breath before him, but when she raised her head, Manuel discovered the woman was one of the nuns from the convent on the mountain, still clad in her confining garb. She was desperately out of breath, and she looked up at him with pleading blue eyes that seized his heart with a pang. She was young, with sharp cheeks and plump lips, and despite himself Manuel wondered what could have sent a beauty like her to a convent. "Please, help me. My sister and I got lost in these woods after she hurt her ankle, so I went for help. Can you help me?"

Manuel blinked, glancing about him for the other two men he had been travelling with as he returned his weapon to its strap. He was on the job, and he knew his sergeant would have his hide the next day if he wandered off, even if Pascual had done just that himself. Still, a glance back at the girl's face made him swallow through his tight throat, and he nodded. "Sure, I'll help," he managed, and the smile she gave him was as brilliant as the moon in the heavens.

Manuel soon found himself being led through the trees, becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he had no idea how he would find his way back to the other two men as their path wound to and fro. He wondered how she managed it in the darkness, but she seemed to even have little need of the torchlight, leading them onward without hesitation. They said little, though she had extended her hand to him, and he took it, thrilled at the feeling of her delicate skin against his calloused fingers even as he wondered if it was right to hold the hand of a nun.

Finally they slowed, as they entered a small clearing, but as he began to look around the sister stepped in front of him suddenly, her blue eyes forcefully capturing his. "Oh! She's gone. She must have recovered and made her way back on her own." She gave him a brilliant smile, her head tilted to the side as she swayed back and forth.

Manuel's brow furrowed as he looked at her. "Now, that doesn't make sense. How do you know she made it? Shouldn't we look for her-?"

The girl stepped forward, pushing firmly against his chest, and his back bumped into a tree behind him. Surprised, he stared down at her as she leaned against him, reaching up to remove her wimple and shaking free her shoulder-length platinum blond hair. Her smile revealed her teeth as she bit her lower lip, and she pressed harder against him, bringing their faces closer together. "You were so brave, escorting me through these woods. You should have a reward, don't you think?" Manuel jumped as he felt one of her hands grip him below his belt.

The mercenary shook his head even as he felt himself swelling in her grasp. "We shouldn't. You have vows, right, and I need to get back to-"

"I'm very serious about my vows," she purred, stroking him firmly as he grew in his trousers, her cheek brushing against his as she brought her lips to his ear. "And I swear that you will enjoy this."

He shuddered as she released him, his mind clouded. Before his concerns could rally, he felt her adroitly undoing his belt, and could only stammer, "But I don't even know your name!" This was a first for him, a man more accustomed to pursuing coquettish maids than being cornered like this.

The girl gave him a wide smile as his trousers dropped to the forest's floor. "Call me Faith." She locked their eyes together as she descended to her knees, unconcerned that she was dirtying her habit as she knelt to take his member into her mouth. Manuel's groan rattled his body as she devoured his half-erect shaft, pressing him deep into her mouth and sucking fiercely. It took only moments for him, hardly a virgin, to be moaning and clawing at the bark of the tree behind him. Faith had skills entirely inappropriate for a woman of her calling, and her tongue swirled around him like a coiling tentacle, leaving him weak in the knees.

As minutes passed to the wet sounds, he could feel his release building, and he stared up at the cold moon, gasping for breath as he felt his member begin to pulse in her mouth. Before he could arrive at that blinding ecstasy, however, Faith drew back from him with a wet 'pop,' leaving his tortured tool bobbing moistly in the air. She stood before him, her hand caressing his face as she brushed the excess moisture from her lips with the other. "Don't finish just yet. I haven't had my fun, and there is a much better place to spend yourself." As he watched, she began to loosen the belt of her habit, swiftly disrobing. To his surprise, she wore nothing underneath, and her pale skin looked almost blueish in the chill moonlight.

She took him by the hand, using her other hand to direct his face towards hers, keeping their eyes locked. She led him away from the trees, to a grassless patch of earth. Her eyes flicked to the ground, and his followed, finding something scratched into the dirt before she recaptured his attention by lunging forward, mashing their lips together fiercely as her tongue plunged into his mouth. Her hand reached down to grip his aching shaft, stroking it back to full need, and she guided him to lay down on the ground, never relenting from her intoxicating kisses. Only when he lay supine did she relent, quickly straddling his hips.

"Tell me," she asked, sliding her wet lower lips against his member in a maddening tease, "do you want to be with me?" She rubbed harder against him, and the head of his prick pressed against her opening as she rocked back, but no further. She waited for a response, her eyes almost seeming to glow violet in the moonlight, her pale hair shining silver and her skin shadowed to blue. For just a moment, that felt wrong to him, but she shifted, lifting and sliding against him once more, driving all conscious thought from his mind as his hips bucked desperately against her.

"Yes," he groaned. "Please, yes." She smiled sadistically down at him, rocking her hips faster, yet not granting him the succor he craved.

"Will you give yourself to me, then?" she asked slyly, moaning in punctuation as she rubbed her clit against the head of his member.

"Please!" he cried, sinking his fingers into the earth. "Yes! Just do it!"

They both cried out throatily as she plunged onto him. His pleasure was so great that he did not see the way her eyes flared with violet light, or the way the ground below them lit with power of the same hue, or the small dark wings that spread from her lower back. Those black-feathered appendages flapped gently as she rose and fell, consuming his organ hungrily into herself. She was not patient, did not allow their passion to build, instead throwing herself into a brutal rhythm that left him howling with need, racing uncontrollably towards release.

Manuel all but blacked out as he came, thrusting senselessly into her as his seed shot deep into her womb, and she laughed with a sinister thrill as she didn't stop, didn't slow. Manuel trembled under her, but didn't even have time to relax as she continued to ride him, dark power flowing into him and keeping him hard, even though the sensitivity was maddening. The feelings were so overwhelming that he couldn't even notice that he was sinking into the earth.

The lovers continued frantically grinding together as they sank, deeper and deeper, passing through the center of the runic circle that she had positioned him atop. Within moments, only her head peaked above that rim, while around the edges a glimpse of a different place could be seen, a murky purple realm that rang out with unending screams of ecstasy. Faith didn't look up from the pleasured face of her new mate as they disappeared from sight, and with a flash they disappeared, the rune-carved earth appearing once more.

All was silent in the clearing once more. Still, a shadowed form stepped from the ring of trees, walking closer to the magic circle. The cloud of shadows took on a feminine form, albeit one clad in black armor, as she drew near the earth that had covered Faith and her captive. The watcher smiled cruelly at that place, her tongue parting her lips in a slow lick. "Welcome to the congregation."

She faded back into mist, and exploded skyward, launching towards a looming mountain, leaving behind only the ringing of cold laughter.

* * *

 _**Author's Note:** A longer chapter this time, and the next is much the same. This story is building towards major events in a few chapters, but not quite at the pace I had intended. I still hope to have an extra chapter done by Christmas, so that my next posting will be a double release, but we shall see how my writing progresses over this busy weekend, especially since I will be participating in another speedwriting contest on TFT._  
 _I shall keep this note brief, as I have much to do today, and writing needs to be worked into my schedule if I ever hope to produce that extra chapter. Thank you, always, for reading, and know that I appreciate whatever feedback you can offer. I shall return on Tuesday, with one chapter or two, and I shall hope that you will return then for more!_  
 _Perhaps I can get more done if I forego a few hours of sleep..._  
 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	6. Hallowed

Simon opened his eyes, squinting against sunlight as he flailed for his glasses. He had fallen asleep on his back, and it seemed he had scarcely moved in the night, though Gina had apparently woken enough to crawl into bed next to him. She clutched him in her sleep, and he smiled at her as he put on his spectacles. She barely stirred as he leaned over to gently kiss her forehead, though one ear twitched and he swore he could see the faintest upward tilt to her lips.

For a long moment, he was tempted to do more than just that. The blankets fell away as he shifted, leaving one of her breasts bare to the air, and he admired it eagerly, fighting back the urge to caress it. He remembered the look in her eyes the previous day, and knew she would have absolutely no problem with him waking her that way; she would probably be thrilled, and that thought made it even more appealing. He wanted to treat her, to pamper her, to please her, and that urge itched at him. He wanted her so bad he ached, and he didn't know anymore why he needed to hold back.

He sighed irritably as he covered her once more with the blanket, watching as she snuggled into it. No, he knew why he needed to restrain himself. Nothing had changed; in three or four days, the caravan would arrive to take her far from here. He imagined for just a second the thought of fleeing with her, but he knew that would only bring the Lector in pursuit, putting her in greater danger. He could only dream that someday, somehow, he could find her once more. That bitterness dragged at his shoulders as he dressed himself, taking up his staff as though it weighed as much as a boulder.

He paused, giving Gina one final longing look before turning back to the door. He would see to breakfast, and then go out to report to Themras. Perhaps he would have time to bring the food back up and eat with Gina, he consoled himself as he opened the door. Stepping out and closing it behind him, he turned to start down the stairs, only to freeze in place as he found Lector Themras, dressed in his full regalia, only three stairs down from him.

"L-Lector, I'm sorry, I didn't think I overslept!" Simon stammered, his eyes wide.

Lector Themras gave him a cold stare that lingered for a long moment. "Sloth is the enemy of good works, child. I have been awake and active for hours, and tired of waiting for you to appear. Come. We have work to do." With that, he turned and strode down the stairs, his crosier tapping against the wooden steps, not bothering to look back to see if Simon followed. Simon hastened to do just that, eager to put distance between the priest and the bed where Gina still slumbered. His heart pounded a frantic staccato as he remembered what he had nearly started just minutes before, and how the Lector would have found him and Gina if he had.

As they walked through the inn's common room, Themras's head turned to regard Charles Kramer as the burly innkeep polished his bar with a rag, and beyond him Mary cowering in the kitchen. "Errant, that servant girl insisted, almost to the point of defiance, upon waking you herself when I came to fetch you." Themras turned to spear Simon with a stare, his grey eyes sharpened to metallic points. "As an Inquisitor Errant, you should know the dangers of fraternizing with the laity. You never know what devilry hides in the hearts of men, or especially in the soft flesh of women."

"Yes, Father," Simon agreed, bowing his head. When the Lector resumed their pace, Simon shot a sympathetic glance back at his allies. Charles was glaring daggers at the priest, but Mary was staring at him with fear in her eyes, and he offered her a subtle smile to reassure her, which she mirrored openly, clutching her hands over her breast.

When Simon and the Lector stepped out into the open air, Simon was surprised to discover that morning had hardly passed any more than it had the previous day when he had reported to Father Wulfe's old home. He glared at the back of the Lector's mitre, but forced civility into his tone as he spoke. "Pardon me, Father, but where are we headed this morning?"

Themras did not look back. "We are going to the monastery so I may do the job I assigned to you, of course." Turning towards the road that led towards the mountain, the Lector could not see the alarm on Simon's face. "You found very little of interest to my pursuit. I intend to remedy that."

Simon's staff clashed a little harder with the earth as he walked behind the priest. "I beg your forgiveness, but, seeing as how you never told me specifically what you were seeking-"

"Excuses are unbecoming of an Inquisitor, Errant." Simon's hand tightened on his staff, but he waited for the Lector to continue. "But I will allow you this." The Lector paused, and turned to face Simon directly. "There are those, much higher in our faith, who believe that this region is tainted by an old association. Many years ago, not long after the Last War of the Demon King, there was a laboratory built here, although we do not know precisely where. Many of the townspeople here are likely descended from the laborers who helped construct it. We believe that this location might be related to the disappearances of the pilgrims, and the faithlessness of the populace."

Simon's eyes narrowed as he regarded the Lector. Deep in his mind, he was surprised at how cogent the priest was, a far contrast from his behavior the past few days. This new information did explain Themras's desperate search through Father Wulfe's letters, at the least. More than that, though, some of the things the Lector was saying felt wrong to him. "Why now, though? Should that not have been a problem ever since the laboratory was constructed? And who had it built?"

An unsettling gleam entered the Lector's eyes at the final question. "Perhaps the mongrels fear the growing power of the church, and that is why they act now. But as for who, it is nothing you have been taught. Still, in these circumstances…" The Lector shook his head, restraining his righteous anger, and his hand tightened on his staff as the bronzed flame icon at its head glinted in the dim sunlight. "Long ago, during the founding era of our church, as our faith was born out of the old multinational Order, our Fathers decided to work with a wizard of great power to create the Barriers that protect our cities. He pretended to be a servant of the faith, but in actuality, he was conspiring with the enemies of mankind. For his treachery, the Arch-Heretic was put to death, but it seems his old creations linger to trouble us." Themras reached out with his free hand to take hold of Simon's shoulder, gripping harshly. "That is the importance of our mission here. We have been giving a sacred calling, and only by conquering this can we be worthy of the honor they afford us. There will be much glory for us all, should we bring this to purifying light."

Simon nodded slowly, digesting that information. Still, even as he thought back over all he had read in the monastery's libraries the previous day, he struggled to think of a single shred of knowledge that had anything to do with the Lector's suspicions. "There was nothing of this in their collections," he muttered, his brain reparsing everything he had read once more.

"And that is how we know they are guilty," Themras proclaimed, a self-pleased smile lighting his face. "Come. We shall have the truth, however hard we have to press to find it."

Simon followed behind the priest as they turned to ascend the mountain that pierced the heavens, his feet dragging heavily as if tied to the girl that still slept in the bed in the inn.

* * *

When the two men entered the monastery, the outer narthex was empty, save for a lone nun that immediately dashed away, no doubt racing to retrieve the prioress. Unlike Simon, however, the Lector was not content to wait. Instead, he strode forward without pause, and Simon followed at his heels, dreading the confrontation to come. Themras did not slow until he passed the statues in the inner narthex, glaring at the unusually-placed statue of the Priest. "They cannot even be bothered to order our sacred icons correctly. Such sloppy devotion hardly inspires great faith." Shaking his head, he marched on to the nave, and Simon followed, but only after giving a slight bow to the statue of the Priest as if in apology.

Themras was halfway to the pulpit when the prioress emerged from the hallways beyond, and he stood his ground in the center of the chamber of worship, imperiously awaiting her arrival. Perhaps it was Simon's imagination, but he believed that he saw the sister's pace slow as she noticed that, and moments passed almost in silence as she approached. As she drew closer, Simon noticed the way she looked directly to him, her eyes hard as if expecting betrayal, but he shook his head minutely, and she turned her gaze to the priest.

"Welcome, Lector Themras. Errant Hopkins has said much of you." The prioress smiled at the older man, but the expression held no warmth. "I had wondered if you would be paying us a visit."

"I am sure you did," Themras replied harshly. He glanced around the nave, noting the nuns that gathered in small clusters along the walls of the aisles. "We must proceed to your offices to discuss the matters I bring to you."

Simon swallowed at that, but Sister Benevolence smiled and bowed her head slightly. "Of course. If you will follow me?" Without waiting for reply, she turned and walked back the way she had come, and after a moment's pause Themras followed, Simon behind him. The Inquisitor remembered her office from his visit the previous day. It had taken him a moment to realize the importance of the owl carvings on her desk. He wondered if it would take Themras that long, and how she was might handle it if he did deduce her true faith.

When they arrived at the summit of the stairwell, he found his answer as she led them, not around to the offices that she had used the previous day, but instead towards the unoccupied abbot's office. As she opened the door to allow Themras to enter, she glanced appraisingly back to Simon, but he kept his lips sealed, realizing that they both carried high stakes in this game. If he revealed her, she would reveal Gina, and in front of a man that had no compunctions about using flames to purify those he deemed wicked. The prioress read his face in an instant, but revealed no relief on her own as she entered the room behind him.

Once the door was closed behind them, leaving the three of them alone in the spartan chamber, the prioress circled the plain desk, taking a seat in the simple wooden chair behind it. Simon's eyes flicked past her, to the door he noticed in the background, which bore a heavy lock, presumably the chamber that contained the Priest's relics she had mentioned on his first visit to the monastery. Simon started to sit in one of the two chairs arranged in front of the desk, but paused as he noticed that Themras had made no motion to do the same.

"Let us dispense with niceties." Simon's eyes widened as he felt a power building in the room, and Themras slammed his crosier down onto the stone floor of the chamber, the staff's butt ringing a harsh echo that filled the room as the flame icon at its head glowed with holy light. At that moment, a burst of light filled the room, and when Simon opened his eyes, blinking away the glare that had blinded him, he noticed a golden haze in the air. He glanced around, amazed, but his heart plummeted as he realized what had just happened. The Lector had cast a spell; a very, very powerful one.

" _Revealing Light of Truth_ ," Themras explained, staring unwaveringly at the prioress. "Are you familiar with this spell?" Simon was, though he was far from being able to cast it. Only the most powerful priests he knew could. Its purpose was simple: the light would remain as long as all in its field spoke the truth as they knew it. If any lied, the light would fade to a black miasma around them – harmless, but undeniable. The spell wasn't without its flaws; for one, someone could truthfully speak something false if they did not know they were misinformed, or believe they lied about something that was actually factual. Still, if anyone tried to consciously lie, the spell would reveal them in an instant.

Sister Benevolence smiled, leaning back in her seat. "Of course, though I hardly see a justification for using it among friends." The light around her remained golden, but Simon dreaded how this interview would proceed. "Still, you may ask your questions, and I will answer."

"Of course." Lector Themras's smile bared his teeth, framed by his beard. "First: are you a follower of the Church of the Holy Martyr?" Simon's heart plummeted at that question.

"How insulting." The prioress's eyes narrowed as she scowled at the older man. "You will find few more devout than I. And I swear to you, you will find no followers of the Demon Queen within this monastery." The light remained unchanged.

The Lector's smile faded. "Hmph. You are quite certain of yourself." Simon glanced sidelong at the priest, surprised. For all of Themras's posturing, he still didn't see the obvious holes in Sister Benevolence's statements, though Simon admittedly had an advantage. "Very well. Do you know anything of the missing pilgrims?"

Sister Benevolence took a long moment to answer that question, tapping her chin in thought. "I do know that many of the pilgrims who disappeared left the monastery before they went missing, so it is possible that they were taken by those who waited for them to leave our mountain. I do not think anyone here would harm any of the faithful who come to our doors; we show them all kindness. I also don't know of any monsters that live in the forests outside the town, so I doubt that is behind the disappearances."

Themras nodded, but pressed on to the real reason for their visit. "Next, then." He paused, looming over the desk and the woman, his face as wrathful as a thundercloud. "Tell me what you know of the Arch-Heretic, and the laboratory he had built in this area."

"The Arch-Heretic?" At this, the prioress seemed genuinely confused. "Do you mean- the Warlock?" She was quick to see the fury building on the Lector's face, and pressed on. "He worked with the church to help develop the Barriers, yes?" Themras nodded, while at his side Simon sighed; he was getting rather frustrated with everyone knowing a story that he had previously never heard of, and this one sounded interesting. "I had heard he had worked in this area, but if it was near Videre, I was not aware of it. In any case, wasn't he executed?"

"Surely you know more than this," Themras pressed.

The prioress blinked, obviously caught off guard. "Well… perhaps there would be some records of use to you. I will have them collected for you from our archives. My apologies; this request is different from what your servant asked of me yesterday, so I may have directed him to the wrong books." The light around her remained golden, and her tone seemed genuinely apologetic. "I will send someone immediately to retrieve the correct ones."

"No need. I will go myself." Lector Themras instructed.

"Of course. I can lead you to the sealed archive immediately. I had merely assumed you would be pressed for time, and would prefer to have the relevant tomes brought to you. I assure you, any that relate to your search will be retrieved, and you can take them back to Videre with you, if you would prefer that." The prioress's tone was neutral, but Simon was quick to decipher her play. 'Sealed archives' – she meant the forbidden library in the catacombs, and she was trying to lead Themras away from going down there. That was useful information, considering how hard she had pressed Simon to go in that direction.

"Are they not just behind you?" Themras motioned to the door beyond the prioress. Immediately her gaze hardened, drastically enough that Simon was taken aback.

"No. That chamber is sacred. It contains relics of the Priest himself, one of the Seven Heroes. Not even I enter it, out of respect to his sacrifice." The Lector regarded her carefully, surprised at her fierce piety, but a cruel mirth entered her eyes. "After all, the Priest is the perfect representation of mercy, kindness, and sacrifice, instead of the sins of cruelty and self-aggrandizement. Aren't those virtues you aspire to for yourself?"

"Of course," the Lector snapped, and immediately the air around him darkened. Snarling, he waved his hand, and the golden gleam faded from the air. The prioress said nothing, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied smile, and Themras looked to neither of them. "Send your sisters to fetch the tomes we need, immediately." Sister Benevolence stood from her seat, bowing her head as she passed the Lector, but he ignored her. She met the gaze of Simon, and he noted the sharp edge to her smile as she approached the door, opening it and calling for a sister beyond.

Soon, Sister Benevolence turned back to the waiting men, asking their leave to go with the sister to be certain they retrieved all of the needed books, and the Lector granted permission with a flick of his hand, his brow beetled as he poured back over the prioress's statements. As soon as she was gone and the door closed, he turned to face Simon, his expression turbulent. "Observations?" he demanded.

Simon took a moment to gather his thoughts. The spell that detected lies was gone, but still he knew he would have to tread carefully. "She does strike me as faithful, although I don't think she likes you very much." Themras waved that off as unimportant. "She was genuinely surprised that you asked about the laboratory. Earlier, you said that the people of Videre are probably descended from the people that built it, but isn't it more likely that they come from the people who rebuilt the monastery?"

Themras nodded, but his scowl remained. "Perhaps both, though I am not certain. Still, I know the laboratory is here. The Holy One said-" He froze, and Simon looked at him curiously. "I know it is here," he restated, and the look in his eyes forbade further questions.

An awkward silence lingered for long minutes as Simon looked around the room while the Lector lost himself in his own thoughts. An errant idea occurred to the Lector, and he glanced to Simon dispassionately. "Oh, and do be careful about going into the woods. The other boy said that another of the mercenaries turned up missing last night." The offhanded tone he offered the warning with seemed completely at odds with its contents.

"Another?" Simon's stomach fell. "They were supposed to work in pairs, so they wouldn't be alone."

"Apparently he wandered off. No doubt, he fell into the clutches of the villains we seek. Our enemy is insidious, never forget that." Before Simon could respond, the door opened once more, and a nun entered toting several large tomes, which she placed delicately on the desk. Simon was relieved to see the nun was not the flippant sister from the previous day; fortunately, he had not seen Sister Faith since he had entered the monastery with the Lector. Bowing, the subordinate nun made a swift exit, though Sister Benevolence entered before the door could close once more.

"These records cover much of our monastery's dealings with people from outside the region, as far back as the reconstruction after the Last War of the Demon King." Sister Benevolence rounded the desk, facing Themras directly. "We keep these locked up for their protection, but the other books in the archive are kept there per the church's proscription." She shuffled through the books, her eyes widening as she noticed the writing on one's cover. "Ah, like that one. My apologies, the sister I sent must have picked it up by mistake. Let me send her back with it to return it to the archives." Simon glanced at the book in question, and had just enough time to read the cover: _Thesis on Teleportation_.

"I see," responded the Lector dubiously. He disdainfully glanced at the book she held as she walked past, then stepped closer to the desk to flip through one of the remaining tomes. "These are quite… detailed. You say this includes all interactions with people from outside the monastery?"

Sister Benevolence was slow in responding, handing the book she had reclaimed to the sister outside the door. As she returned to them, however, she nodded briskly. "Yes, including records of our weekly supply wagons, and lists of all visiting pilgrims. It also includes occasions when members of our congregation left to perform duties elsewhere." She sat down, watching with a faint smile as Themras scanned over the pages before him. "Now that I think of it, there was one time, shortly following the reconstruction, that the abbot traveled to a nearby town to examine construction supplies being brought in; I had always thought that curious, since most of the work on the monastery itself should have been completed." She frowned, leaning forward to select one of the tomes and flipping through it rapidly. "Not this… no, earlier… ah, here, yes." She turned the book to face the priest. "Here is the record, though admittedly it is rather succinct."

Themras squinted at the text, scowling as his eyes raced over the words. "That's the extent of it? There's not much information there."

"I'm afraid so." Sister Benevolence spread her hands helplessly. "I am afraid we would have nothing else on that particular event, though perhaps the people of that town may have records of their own. I believe it's over a half-day's travel to the west from here, however."

Themras closed the book, nodding to himself. "Very well. It isn't much, but perhaps it bears investigating." He motioned Simon toward the books with a wave of his hand, and the Inquisitor stepped forward to pick them up, struggling to achieve that and hold his staff at the same time. "I… thank you for your cooperation."

"Of course." Sister Benevolence inclined her head slightly. "Anything for my faith."

"Good." Themras turned, walking towards the door. "In that case, see to those other books in your sealed archive. If they are proscribed by the church, then they serve no purpose. Burn them."

Simon glanced back at the nun, and found her staring at the priest with slackened jaws. "What?" Her tone was outraged, scandalized.

Themras glanced back at her coolly. "You heard me. Burn them all. After my investigation is finished here, I will be returning with a greater accompaniment to insure that it has been done. It is clear to me that the administration of this monastery needs a reminder about how things are done in our modern church. First off all, we have little need for things better left to languish in history." His gaze left hers to stare briefly at the locked door behind her. "Such things are better consigned to the fire, because they only lead us to stray from the proper path." He turned once more, opening the door. "Come, Errant."

Simon followed, but he spared a glance behind him. Sister Benevolence did not meet his eyes. Instead, she stared at the Lector's back, a simmering hatred clear in the curl of her lip and the intensity of her gaze, and for just a moment Simon felt a strange power in the room, but his course took him between the two, and her anger faded as she regarded him instead. He nodded to her once, and she returned the gesture, something complex and unreadable in her eyes. Simon had little time to consider it, rushing after the Lector, who was marching relentlessly towards the stairs.

The two men did not speak as they walked through the monastery. As they passed through the nave, Simon felt the eyes of the nuns along the walls upon him, and a shiver raced up his spine. Suddenly, the monastery felt far less welcoming, and even the statues of the Seven Heroes seemed to look down upon them in judgment as they traversed the narthex. The feeling of being watched persisted until they exited the building, and even then Simon felt like the windows of the monastery observed them begin their trek down the mountain, while the skies to the west rumbled ominously as dark grey clouds gathered to catch the falling sun.

"You will return tomorrow. Continue your own investigation. Interrogate the sisters, but avoid that woman. Her tongue twists like a serpent." Themras did not look at Simon, scowling into the distance. His gaze drifted to the ground before him, then aimed to the storm-shrouded skies to the west. "I will pursue the lead she offered, though I have little faith in anything she has provided us."

"Yes Father." Simon chained in a sigh. He was not looking forward to returning to the monastery after this visit. Now, the thought of it felt vaguely like shoving his face into an agitated beehive.

"When we return to the capitol, I intend to have a new abbot sent to this location. I do not think 'Sister Benevolence' will enjoy stricter guidance, but it is for the good of the faithful." Lector Themras nodded to himself, a rare smile forming on his lips. "And if she cannot adjust to the real commandments of our religion, then perhaps she, too, is better left forgotten in history."

As they descended further, Simon looked at the man, who ignored him. Deep inside his heart, Simon felt the last faint flame of his own faith waver, all but extinguished in the face of Themras's cruelty. He had come to Videre to hunt monsters, and now he knew he had found one after all.

* * *

When Simon walked into the inn, hours after he had returned with the Lector to begin reviewing the tomes he had carried from the monastery, he immediately noticed how hushed the conversations inside the usually-crowded common room seemed. He was quick to notice how few of the villagers had come out to dine at the inn, and those who had shot barely-hidden scowls in his direction. The only friendly face in the room was that of Charles Kramer, the top-heavy innkeep washing mugs. He, at least, gave Simon a grin, and Simon crossed the room to speak to him directly.

As Simon drew near, Charles raised the mug he had been washing. "Fancy a drink?"

The younger man shook his head, smiling wryly. "I'll pass, but thanks. The other night was enough for me for a long while. Still, I, ah, might take dinner up with me."

"Heh, I figured. I'm sure you've worked up an appetite." For the last, Charles raised his voice just slightly, providing an excuse to the room for the heavily-laden tray that Simon would soon be carrying up to his room to share with Gina.

"Best believe it. It's been quite the day." Simon sighed, leaning against the bar in front of Charles, the only other person within earshot. "By the way, this morning-"

"I'm sorry, lad. We tried to let you know ahead of time, but that bastard wouldn't listen." Charles frowned as he rethought what he had said. "Sorry, I shouldn't say that about your superior."

"Let's just leave it at 'that bastard,' shall we? You were right to say it. No, I meant to apologize for how he treated you, and Mary."

Charles's eyebrow raised, and he stared for a long moment at Simon. "You owe us no apology. Wasn't you that did it. But, lad, you should know there would be a seat for you, too, on that caravan that's coming in a few days, if you'd just ask."

Simon offered the burly innkeep a smile blunted only by fatigue. "I appreciate that, truly. But to do that would just put… her, at risk. I won't do that. I will stay here, if just to draw the Lector and George off her tracks."

"Damned brave of you, lad. That Purifier isn't the brightest, but the priest has the mind of a man bent on murder, make no mistake. There's none so dangerous as those who think their killing to be righteous." Simon nodded at that, remembering the Lector's conversation with Sister Benevolence. "Just… you keep yourself safe, alright?" Charles reached out to grip Simon's shoulder with a meaty hand. "Least of all, because I think my little gal is sweet for you. You should be proud; that's a first for her." The innkeeper laughed at Simon's spluttered denials, turning towards the kitchen. "I'll get your tray together."

Simon glanced over the small crowd, several of them still looking at him with heavy brows and dark stares, and noticed Mary weaving among them, carrying a tray of drinks and handing them out. When she caught him looking in her direction, she smiled brightly and waved to him, and he returned the gesture before looking away, hoping she didn't notice his reddened cheeks. He tried to force down what Charles had said, but he felt a decidedly-confused giddiness nonetheless. The innkeep soon returned with his heavily-laden tray, and extended it towards Simon with a grin. "Eat up. Making all of those trips up the mountain, you need the energy. You're going to end up with legs as thick as oak trees."

"If they don't fall off first," Simon quipped. He reached out to take the tray, but both men jumped slightly as the resounding crash of thunder shook the inn. Both of them looked up as they heard a quiet susurrus, which gradually gained in volume as the heavens above Videre began to release a deluge onto the defenseless hamlet. "And that isn't going to make the trip any better."

"Better you than me. That storm's been brewing for a while, and it won't be quick in passing." Charles shrugged in sympathy as Simon turned to take the tray towards his room. "Don't be surprised if you get a visitor later; she's been on about it all day. Just, ah…" Simon swallowed nervously, glancing back to find the other man leaning forward with a toothy grin that was surprisingly intimidating. "No hanky-panky, aye?"

"We'll have a chaperone," Simon replied, wondering for a moment which girl Charles thought would be the minder, and which the paramour.

"Right you are then!" Charles guffawed, and Simon beat a hasty retreat, though his eyes did seek out Mary once more. She was still making her rounds about the customers, but her eyes flicked once and again to the windows, as it watching for the telltale flash of lightning. When she looked to him, he gave her a smile he hoped would be reassuring, and her eyes lit up with gratitude.

The trip up the stairs was a tad precarious, though less so than the time he had managed to achieve it similarly encumbered and drunk. Still, he was glad when he entered the room without spilling the food. Once again, the room was empty, but Simon could hear the soft sounds of Gina sniffing the air, and soon enough her head popped around the corner, immediately blossoming into a brilliant smile. "Wait, wait!" he warned, nodding to the tray, and she dutifully obeyed as he moved closer to setting it down, though she swayed side-to-side rapidly as if constraining her urges, her tail beating the air behind her. "Alright, now-" Simon began, turning to face her, but she was already upon him, colliding with his chest with enough force to press the air from his lungs. He chuckled, petting her head as she sniffed fiercely at his chest, drinking in his scent ravenously before rubbing her face against his sternum. His hand made long strokes down her hair as she hugged him tightly, refusing to think about releasing him until she was good and ready, and he didn't suggest it either.

"Ah-!" Simon groaned, as her hug became drastically tighter in response to another bass explosion from outside the window. As he winced, surprised at her strength, Gina whined, shivering a bit as she snuggled as closely to him as she could manage. "So, you don't like storms, huh?" Simon deduced, and she looked up at him with pitifully-wide eyes, nodding minutely. "Well, it sounds like it's getting closer, so let's hurry and eat so we can turn in sooner. Maybe you can sleep through the worst of it." Gina stared at him for a long moment before nodding, but even as they carried away their food to sit down, she still clutched to him with one arm.

They ate in silence, Gina pressing against him every time the heavens growled. When he could, he reached over to stroke her back, and she took breaks from her meal to lean close and lick his cheek, sending shivers dancing up his spine when she flicked against his ear. Any further amorous intent was elsewise quelled by the increasingly-vocal skies, and Simon didn't know whether to be relieved or saddened about that, as after that morning he would be paranoid about Lector Themras bursting into the room if they began to pick back up where they had left of yesterday.

When they were finished, Simon returned their platters and cups to the tray, and returned to the bed, where Gina had already thrown back the blankets and wedged herself against the wall. Simon laughed as her clothing came flying past him wadded into balls, and Gina looked at him curiously, the blankets firmly pulled around her shoulders, though not enough so to hide her shivering. Simon took a moment to strip down, leaving on his breeches as he recalled Charles's suggestion that Mary might be joining them later, and then slid into the bed. Gina responded by pulling on him until he was laying in the center of the bed, pressing her firmly against the wall. Satisfied, she snuggled into the gap between his arm and body, burrowing her face against his chest. Still, her ears flicked at every thundercrack, and he squeezed her reassuringly whenever she released soft whimpers.

To distract himself, Simon scooted to the edge to take up one of his books, though Gina was swift to plant a paw on his chest to discourage him from rising from the bed. By straining, he was barely able to scoot his stack of books close enough to pluck one out, though he recognized it as a treatise on holy magic, and he let it slump to the floor with a frown. A second cast of his arm snagged another book, and the faded cover proclaimed it as one of the aged storybooks that he had received from his parents. He flipped open the well-worn pages, smiling at the nostalgic illustrations as Gina re-adhered herself to his side.

By the time the knock came at the door, Gina was softly snoring despite the continued rumblings from the skies above, and Simon's own eyes were dragging heavily on the words in the dancing light of the diminished candle. Simon delicately freed himself from the bed as Gina drowsily sniffed at the air before returning her head to the pillow. Taking a moment to self-consciously brush the wrinkles from his clothing, Simon walked to the door and opened it. To his relief, Mary stood on the other side. She had taken time to change into a different outfit, a casual dress decorated with a floral pattern. Simon was sure she had decided to change out of the clothing she had been serving food in, though he admitted to himself that her new outfit certainly was cuter, and more feminine, showing the upper limits of her breasts and the incline of the deep valley between them. She had also released her brown hair from its usual braid, which was a good look for her, Simon noted. "Sorry it's so late, I had to help pa finish cleaning. He was turning in for the evening." Mary smiled at Simon, her cheeks flushed as she looked at him over the rim of her glasses. "I told him I would just be talking with you two for a while."

"That's fine, I hadn't fallen asleep yet." Simon motioned her into the room, and she curtsied slightly as she came in. She paused when she came to the foot of the bed, glancing at Gina.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake her," she apologized, but Gina opened a single eye and freed an arm enough to wave at Mary before reinserting herself back into her blanket bundle. Another flash, followed soon by a quaking rumble, drew a pouty frown from the kobold as she glowered at the window before looking plaintively to Simon, who was also noticing the slight jump Mary had given at the sound. Mary glanced at the bed before making her way to the pile of blankets, taking a seat and smoothing the skirt of her dress. Simon, meanwhile, sat on the bed, scooting close to Gina while still remaining upright, and the kobold took the opportunity to rest her face in his lap, sniffing curiously. "So…" Mary began, awkwardly looking at her hands as she struggled to find something to say, and Simon laughed as he sympathized with her.

"So, you've seen all of my books. Your turn. What stories do you know?"

This brought a light back to Mary's face. "Oh, of course! Have you heard the stories about how the Ranger received his blessing?"

Simon frowned. He had read very little about the Ranger, the quiet member of the Seven Heroes that was usually charged with bringing down the flying beasts that attacked their party. "No, I just know about the blessings of the Priest and the Martyr."

Mary grinned mischievously, leaning forward. "It's really funny. The story I read said that he followed a huntress goddess that didn't like men very much, so at first she refused his requests, even though he was born to be a Hero. Everyone told him to ask another god for their blessing, but he refused, because he believed he was called to serve her. He kept going back to her temple, but her followers would chase him off again and again. Still he kept sneaking in to leave offerings, until one day he decided to show her how devoted he was to her faith. So…" Mary reached up to tug at the shoulders of her dress. "He had a friend of one of the other Heroes help him infiltrate the shrine. They used powders and rouge, and found a dress that fit him, and styled his hair. This time, since he looked so convincingly like a woman, the priestesses let him into the shrine, and he participated in a ceremony of praise. They even let him join their sacred archery games afterward, and he impressed them all by bulls-eying target after target. The only problem came when they decided to bathe in the sanctified springs afterwards. He couldn't escape, so they brought him there, but when he refused to enter the holy pool, one of the priestesses stripped him of his dress." At this point, Mary was biting back laughter, and Simon stared at her in scandalized humor. "So, when they all see his… you know, they all scream. But the most maidenly scream of all…" This broke the storyteller, and Simon joined her laughter, imagining the situation perfectly. "Was his! Before the priestesses could attack him, the goddess herself spoke to them, and told them to spare him. Instead, she gave him her blessing!"

The laughing in the room was loud and long, and Gina looked curiously at the pair before taking the chance to nuzzle closer to Simon's lap. He absent-mindedly reached down to stroke her hair, and she closed her eyes with a satisfied smile. "You know, I think I see why the Church got rid of most of the books with that story," Simon admitted, lifting his glasses to wipe the mirthful moisture from one of his eyes. "They don't take very kindly to people disrespecting the Heroes, but that story just seems… human. Weird, but human."

"But they were!" Mary insisted, shaking her head with a lingering grin. "That's the kind of story I like. The Church says that humanity is important, but most of the time they don't really feel like they like people acting human."

"That's true," Simon admitted. "Where did you find that book, anyways?"

"My father bought it from a passing merchant, oh, five or so-" Mary cut off with a squeak, hopping to her feet as a brilliant flash illuminated the room, and the entire building shuddered from the nearness of the thunder's voice. Simon grunted as Gina plowed her face into his crotch, though with less amorous intent than he might have expected. "Sorry," Mary apologized, shivering a bit as she rubbed one of her arms. "I've never liked storms, ever since I was a little girl."

"It seems you're not alone in that," Simon acknowledged, pointing subtly at Gina. "I don't mind them, myself." Simon had never feared storms; they seemed to agitate him more than scare him, though he had never understood that restlessness.

Gina's head raised from his lap as she stared across the room at Mary, barking softly. When the other girl looked at her curiously, Gina freed an arm to wave at her, then pointed a claw towards the bed on the other side of Simon, who blinked down at her in surprise. Mary's cheeks immediately darkened as she caught the kobold's meaning, and she shook her head rapidly. "Oh, no, I couldn't-" She had started to sit back atop Gina's intended blanket-bed, but another stringent rumble thrust her back to her feet and away from the wall. "Well…"

Simon glanced down to Gina, who met his gaze and nodded. Shrugging as he fought to control his own blush, he glanced to Mary. "I don't mind, I guess."

The human girl made her way over to the bed, not looking Simon's eyes as she came. He scooted as far to the side as he could manage, and Gina clutched to him tightly, sighing in relief. Mary sat on the very edge of the bed, but Gina reached across Simon to tug at her, and she scooted closer, pressing against Simon's arm, though with her legs still dangling over the side of the bed. "Ah, just as long as your father doesn't come in and see this," Simon muttered, cold fingers gripping his stomach. "I think he would tear me apart."

"Oh, Pa is just a great stuffed bear," Mary laughed, shaking her head.

"He looks like he could wrestle actual bears. And win."

Mary shot him a mischievous glance. "How do you think he got those scars?"

"Wouldn't surprise me." Simon leaned back against the wall, asking Mary to hand him the book he had been reading. He reopened it to where he had left off, but turned the book to where Mary could see it as well. "Do you know this story?"

The pair of them read together as minutes stretched into an hour, and then more. After a while, Simon sank into the bed, laying on his back, and soon enough Mary did the same. Simon thought it was the thunder that made Mary clutch to his arm, or perhaps the lack of space in a bed scarcely made for two, rather than three, but nevertheless he found himself firmly sandwiched between two girls underneath the blankets, both of whom had taken to resting their heads on his shoulders. Eventually, as soft breathing filled the air, he freed his arm enough to reach past Mary to extinguish the flagging candle, and to let the book tumble to the floor. The human girl took that opportunity to slide closer to him, and he blushed as he felt her generous chest press against his while she slid her arm around him, mumbling softly in her sleep as she nuzzled his shoulder. With all the subtlety he could muster, Simon dropped his glasses onto the nightstand, and carefully removed Mary's and sent them tumbling as well, hoping they wouldn't drop to the floor.

As he settled in to let drowsiness consume him, Simon stared into the darkness. He was surrounded by the smell of two beautiful girls, the feeling of their soft bodies against his, the sound of their breathing and the sensation of their arms clutching him tightly. He could not decide if this was meant to be heaven or hell, but his pesky lower brain had obviously made its decision, lifting the blankets in an eager spire, and that was making slumber rather difficult. Still, eventually the soft breathy melodies from either side brought him to rest, and as sleep stole him away he squeezed the girls closer to him, all of them finding peace in each other.

This night, at least, none would dare intrude on the succor they had found, and the storm raged on futilely.

* * *

 _The boy in the black cloak stood at a crossroads. The wind whipped at him, and the skies flared with violet lightning, but there was no sanctuary to be found. He shivered, and clutched the cloak tightly about himself, but it was little protection from the piercing chill that sought his bones. Desperately he glanced around, seeking the path he could take to safety._

 _Down one path was a great fire that raged into the heavens. Lines of figures staggered into its depths, an endless procession, and their black-silhouetted forms marched deeper into the flames as they burned, ignorant of the fire that consumed them. He could hear the fevered litany driving them into the pyre, and the words tugged at him, even as they twisted at his stomach._

 _The other path led into shadows that twisted and danced. That darkness felt comfortable, appealing, but he could sense the hunger within. He could hear cries of ecstasy, in voices that seemed almost familiar. The rattle of chains reached for him, and he recoiled, even as he felt a kinship drawing him in that direction._

 _He took a step in that direction, away from the flames, but a distant howl froze him before his foot could fall. He glanced to the side, between the two roads, and he noticed the beginning of a third path. He could see nothing in that direction, could scarcely see more than a couple of steps ahead of him. Still, the voices he heard in that direction, calling to him, turned him away from the path he had nearly chosen._

 _"Don't." The voice that spoke the command was powerful enough to nearly drop him to his knees. "You belong to me. You have always belonged to me."_

 _And still he took the step forward, seeking his own path. As he walked into the unknown darkness, away from the murky shadows and the consuming flame, he heard the frustrated screams ringing in the heavens, but he did not stop. He had made his choice._

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Merry Christmas, all! I know this hardly counts as a gift, especially since I had hoped to have progressed enough to post an additional chapter today, but it will have to do. My writing progress has been slow over the past days, and the fact that the next chapter is immensely important and already looking to be much longer than usual does not help matters. Still, I shall endeavor to return with it Friday, and I hope that you enjoy this chapter as you wait for it. Big things are coming in this tale..._

 _I shall keep this note brief, as I yet have Christmas lunch to go to, and several other things to see to before Christmas's end. Still, thank you for the attention you have thus far paid my story, and I hope that I continue to hold your interest for the chapters yet to come. And, again, Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays._

 _Wynn Pendragon_


	7. Baptism

When Simon woke in the morning, only one of his arms was occupied. For a long moment, his hazy brain wondered why that surprised him, but his body was more certain, his arm groping blindly in search of the girl that had been snuggled against him mere hours earlier. As he opened his sleep-caked eyes, rubbing at them numbly, he glanced down at Gina's head, finding her still pressed against him, her leg thrown possessively over his, her paw resting on his chest. He squeezed her instead, and she contentedly sighed in her sleep.

Though he had gotten accustomed to it, Simon noted the staccato drumming of rain upon the inn roof. While the previous evening's rumbling had died away, the rain had redoubled its efforts, an absolute torrent that only wavered as the wind whipped through it like ripples. Simon sighed as he looked out the window at the deep grey skies, despairing at the thought of having to ascend to the monastery. After the previous day's disastrous meeting, he already knew that it was not going to be pleasant, but the idea of trudging to the summit in this downpour was spirit-crushing. He imagined for just the barest moment that perhaps, just perhaps, Lector Themras would show mercy and let him study the tomes instead, but he laughed out loud at his own naiveté. He might was well wish that the rain would form a wave that would wash him up the mountain.

He knew he needed to get up, even though he was certain he had woken earlier today than usual. Lazing about the previous day would have been disastrous. Still, the sound of the rain on the roof was hypnotic, and Gina's warmth was irresistibly pacifying. He let his hand stroke up and down her back over the blankets as he relaxed, thinking about nothing at all as he let his legs internally grouse about their soreness. Eventually, he idly wondered when Mary had left the previous night, and whether Charles Kramer would say something to him about it. That thought roused him with a mild panic, but he resolved to trust that Mary would keep her father calm. After all, they had just slept in the same room. Under the blankets, in the same bed. With a naked kobold. Yes, definitely better if Mary handled such matters.

An errant thought struck Simon as he petted Gina. He had seen illustrations of kobolds before; crude ones in educational texts detailing various monsters, drawn, he now knew, to emphasize ferocity over accuracy. Still, those depictions had differed from Gina in one notable respect, beyond the blood-dripping fangs and claws shaped to rend the flesh of men: those kobolds had been decidedly less… bare, than Gina. They had been shown with a furry coat that encircled their waist and chest, almost like a corset of fur. Gina, however, was bare along her torso, until her upper thighs and mid-bicep, as well as her lowermost portions aside from her tail, at least from the glimpses he had unintentionally gotten. He wondered if the artwork in question had been altered to make them less appealing, although that certainly hadn't been the case with some of the other monsters, much to the consternation of his teachers and the juvenile thrills of the other Pages and Squires. He believed sometimes that he had gotten a better education in female human anatomy from those books than monster physiques, although perhaps he hadn't always been the best student. Still, he was better than some of the boldest of his fellows, who had taken inordinate joy in defacing the texts with rival genitalia, as if in defiance of the monstrous sexuality confronting them. Considering the rarity of such texts, he had always been surprised such defacement had not been more harshly punished; perhaps the instructors had recalled their own creative additions to the tomes, decades prior.

As he glanced down to Gina, still curious about that discrepancy in her appearance, he noticed that she had stirred to wakefulness. She met his eyes in silence for a long moment, smiling up at him, before finally she closed her eyes in a ferocious yawn, extending all of her limbs in a quivering stretch. When her stretch was finally finished, she collapsed back into a puddle half-atop him, sighing in contentment. He chuckled at that, petting her hair, and she pressed against him with a wiggle, rubbing her face on his shoulder. She looked up to discover he was watching her with a smile, and she returned the expression with a grin of her own. His expression dropped to surprise as she lifted herself up from the bed, her nakedness more on display, as she brought her face closer to his for a kiss.

That kiss was the first of several, although after a moment Gina winced back, waving her paw in front of her face. "Well, excuse me!" Simon protested with a laugh. "Forgive my morning breath!" She shrugged at that, but mischief still danced in her eyes as she drew nearer again. This time, she kissed his cheek, then downward, nuzzling his neck with her lips roughly, and he groaned happily at the feeling, his lower self beginning to flex into a morning stretch of its own, especially as Gina's kisses pressed against his chest, nipping gently at the skin through the fabric of his nightshirt. His heart began to pound out a crescendo, however, as he felt her continue her southward trail across his stomach, and he glanced down to see her nostrils flaring as she drank in his scent, her cheeks reddened and her eyes dulled with aroused desire. Simon swallowed through a tight throat as she looked up to him for permission, and he met her stare, too paralyzed to do anything, though his eyes flicked downward to her pale breasts. She licked her lips, her eyes imprisoning his once more, and her paw moved the blankets away from his waist.

Before she could continue, however, Simon noticed her tense up. She straightened abruptly, loudly sniffing at the air, her head turning this way and that. "What's wrong, Gina?" She ignored him, still huffing the air, until she turned towards him, placing both paws on his shoulders, her eyes widening in panic. Simon heard footsteps thumping on the stairs outside, and he met Gina's terrified gaze with his own despair.

"He might be up… let me knock and see," they could hear Mary saying through the door, her voice muffled even though she was clearly speaking very loudly. Simon and Gina clambered from the bed as the knocking rang through the room. "Mister Hopkins! Are you awake?"

"Hey, buddy! Rise and shine!" Simon winced as he recognized George's voice.

Simon looked at Gina, his brain racing. She had to leave the room before the Purifier came in, but the only door was blocked. There was the window, but-

The door opened, and Simon acted. He pictured a runic circle in his mind as he laid his hand on Gina, and he felt a surge of power pass from him to her. Gina jumped slightly, but on first glance that was the only change she underwent, aside from a slight pearlescent shimmer on her skin. As he drew his hand away from her, however, she vanished from his sight, just as George rounded the corner and grinned broadly at him. "Hey, pal, nice place you've been shacked up in," the Purifier Errant started, though his brow furrowed as he sniffed at the air. "It… it kind of smells like dog in here, though."

Simon hid the relief he felt. His _Blindness of Impurity_ spell had worked perfectly, hiding Gina from sight for a short while. "Yeah, I think the previous people who stayed here had a pet," Simon lied, shooting an apologetic smile back to Mary, who stood at the door looking in, confusion written on her face as she anxiously clasped her hands in front of her chest. "Let me just open a window and let some fresh air in."

With George still standing in the way, and since Simon hardly knew how long his spell would last, there was only one way out of the room, although there was still the problem of being on the second floor. As Simon opened the window out into the rainy air, he stepped back, leaving an open path. He felt something brush against him, and he glanced out again. "Man, it's really coming down out there." His words almost drowned out the sound of a pair of feet splattering the muddy earth below his window, and he could see a bodyshade passing through the pouring rain, an invisible pair of furred legs outlined in mud sprinting away from the inn towards the forest at the edge of the town. Gina appeared as she neared the treeline, too far from him for his magic to persist, but by then Simon had blocked the window with his body, keeping the other man from seeing her race into the woods.

"Yeah, I'd hate to be traveling in this. The Lector chose a really bad time for his trip west, if you ask me." George offered Simon a conspiratorial smile. "Good news is, though, both of us are off the hook while he's gone. He told me that we could just keep an eye on the town when he left this morning, so I figured I would crash with you today." George stepped closer, but paused, glancing down at something at his feet. "Oh, sorry, what is that?" He bent over, straightening with a wide strip of grey cloth in his hand. It took only a second for Simon to recognize it as Gina's breastwrap, laying where she had thrown it the previous evening, and a second more for the alarm bells to resound in Simon's skull. He had no idea how to salvage this one.

"Oh, that's mine. It's just a cleaning rag!" blurted Mary, dashing into the room. She quickly claimed it from George, and proceeded over to Gina's original bed to grab the other part of her attire. "I must have dropped them when I brought these extra blankets!"

"Is that so?" From his tone, it was immediately clear to Simon that George did not believe that the cloths were cleaning rags. It was also clear that George had already decided what they actually were, and who they belonged to, from the glance he gave Mary, followed by the growing grin he was giving Simon. "My apologies, then." Simon could tell that George's appraisal of him had just risen greatly, for all of the wrong reasons.

"I-I'll be leaving, then!" Mary squeaked, rushing for the door. "I'll bring breakfast later!" She closed the door behind her, but Simon still saw the glow in her cheeks from where he stood at the window. She had realized what George would think had happened, and had jumped in to save him and Gina anyways. He would owe her big for that one.

"Not bad, man," George mused, rubbing his chin with an eager grin. "She's really cute. Makes me wish I had been the one to get the inn, instead of some old mansion." His smile was the expressive equivalent of the old-fashioned teasing elbow to the ribs. "I bet you've got some stories to tell, right?"

"I don't want to talk about it-"

"Aw, come on!"

"No, really; have you seen her dad?" Simon swallowed past the lump in his throat, feeling like he owed Mary even more for going along with this.

George thought for just a moment, then paled. "Oh, wait, is it the innkeep? That man looks like he could rip a door off its hinges with his fingernails."

"And so that doesn't happen to that door right there, let's change the subject, aye?" Simon forced a smile onto his own face. "So, the Lector has left town, you say?"

George nodded happily. "Yep! And there's no hunting in this downpour; I doubt any monsters are going to be out in this, and I don't want to be either." He walked over to Simon's bed, plopping down casually. "Since the Lector wanted us to stay in town, care for some company today?"

A pang of guilt made Simon think of the naked kobold out in the forest, but he could think of no way around this. "Sure, that sounds good to me. Sounds like it might be a bit before breakfast, though, and I'm sure the common room is empty at this time of day."

"That's fine with me." George's eyes fell to the collection of books on the floor. "Oh, doing a little research?"

"Hardly." Simon plucked one of the books out of the pile, opening it so George could see the illustrations inside. "I've always had a weak spot for the old storybooks about the Seven Heroes." He was surprised to see George's face light up with delight.

"Wow! That is awesome!" George extended his hands, looking up for permission, and Simon handed him the book. The Purifier Errant flipped through the pages, his eyes wide as he closely examined each illustration. "I wish I had something like this growing up."

"Did your family not keep books?"

"No, not that I remember." George's smile slipped only slightly. "I was orphaned pretty young; there was a bad disease that swept through my hamlet, and the healers barely got to me in time. It was too late for my mom, though." His eyes lost focus on the page for only a moment. "But the church took me in, so I never had it that hard."

Simon didn't know what to do in the face of that confession, so he clapped a hand on George's shoulder. "I lost my parents too. The church recruiters found me and took me from them, but while I was training… they said it was a monster attack that killed them."

George nodded at that. "Well, at least we're on the road to paying the church back for taking care of us, right?" Simon's smile was fake, but it fooled the other man. He had come to question whether he really owed the church for that, considering he would have been with his parents if not for that recruiter, and maybe he could have done something to save them. "And we'll make sure that no other kids have to deal with losing their parents to monsters, too."

Simon didn't reply, taking a seat beside George and bending over to straighten his books. As George flipped through the pages, still lost in a childlike wonder at the fanciful pictures, Simon picked up the book he had been reading with Mary the previous night, his cheeks warming at the memory. Trying to distract himself, he looked over to the book George was perusing, noting the other man was staring at a drawing of the Martyr dueling a monstrous knight whose head floated free of its body. "You know, you could borrow that one, if you wanted," Simon offered graciously.

"That's alright," George declined hesitantly. "I don't have a lot of time to myself these days; the mercenaries are a handful, and the guy that owns the mansion keeps wanting to show off his property and collections of antique weapons, not that I mind. Still…" George's grin grew as he flipped the page, looking at an illustration of the Conqueror marching towards the Demon King's castle, spear raised in defiance. "I mean, I can read, you know. I can read. But I just don't have time." The Purifier looked up from the book, excitement spreading across his face. "Hey, why don't you tell me some of these? That'd definitely be faster."

Simon nodded, not at all bothered to share some of the stories he had always enjoyed. "Do you have any preferences?"

George thought about it only a second. "Something exciting. I know! Did the Heroes ever fight dragons? Those make for the best fights."

"Well, I can think of one story." Simon frowned, toppling his stack of books in search of one in particular. Finding it by the mark of the Holy Flame upon its cover, he took it up and flipped it open, searching forward and back until he stumbled across the particular page he sought. His destination found, he offered the book to George, who took it eagerly, marveling at the illustration that showed the silhouettes of the Seven Heroes fighting together against a gargantuan scaled beast. "During their first foray into the Demon King's lands, the Demon King finally realized that they were a threat, and sent one of his mightiest lieutenants to destroy them. The Demon King had empowered it enough to overwhelm the heroes, and it nearly succeeded; this was a monster that had destroyed entire cities and broken armies. Still, the Seven Heroes were blessed by the gods, and they met its challenge directly."

"First, the Ranger shot arrows to cripple its wings-" Simon couldn't help but smile at the way George was sitting forward, practically at the edge of the bed, his mouth slightly open. "Once the beast was grounded, the Conqueror rushed in, stabbing for the beast's heart with his spear. The Scout attacked its back legs, slashing at the tendons, dodging its tail as it sent trees flying with every swing. The dragon inhaled, preparing to release fire upon them," Simon mimicked this, puffing out his chest, and he could see his audience approved, "but the Paladin dove in the way, his blessed shield protecting them from the flames. As the Priest tended to the Conqueror, who had been flung aside by a swipe of a mighty claw, the Martyr himself stepped to the fore. He dove in, sword flashing with holy power, and with a slash knocked the beast's head to the side. It roared in anguish, tearing at the earth and trying to catch the Martyr with its claws, but it couldn't find him. It realized that the Hero had climbed atop its back, but before it could try to fling him off, the other Heroes attacked, distracting it: arrows flew at its eyes, and a spear plunged into its soft neck while daggers and a hammer punished its sides. The dragon tried to fly away, but the Martyr had climbed up its neck, and as it rose into the sky, he raised his sword over his head and drove it straight down, into the dragon's skull." Simon pantomimed this as well, and George looked to be on the verge of applause. "The dragon crashed back down to the earth, the Martyr riding it all the way down, finally pulling the sword from its skull when it lay still on the ground." His impersonation complete, Simon stood, and George looked from him to the book and back again, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"That is amazing! I wish we had had more stories like that in our training, instead of drills and anatomy lessons." George closed the book, handing it back to Simon. "But just think: we're Errants now. We get to do things like that, go face and slay terrible monsters, have stories told about us just like that!"

Simon returned his friend's enthusiasm, but his smile slipped a little as he considered the exact implications of what the other man was saying. "I know what you mean, but… aren't things different now? The monsters aren't like that anymore."

"Oh, you mean their shape, right?" Simon nodded, though that wasn't entirely what he had been implying. "That's just to confuse men, since we naturally want to protect women. Inside, they are still the same evil beasts that the Heroes fought. Given the chance, any monster will gladly tear you apart."

Gina's face, her wagging tail and cuddling arms, occupied Simon's mind. He knew the things George was saying were wrong, at least about some monsters. "Tell me… have you ever seen a real, living monster?"

The Purifier hesitated. "Well, no. I have been to the Field of Glory, though, more than just the time we passed through it when we left the capitol."

Simon's face fell as he remembered that grim monument. Rows of skulls on spikes, just inside the barrier that protected Olympus City from monsters, each of them taken from monsters slain by members of the Orders. His treasonous mind returned once more to thoughts of Gina, and he couldn't keep the disquiet from his expression. "That's… not the same, George. Do you ever wonder if maybe there are monsters that are… better than that? Just living their lives, not wanting to kill or destroy, just to be happy?"

The doubt plaguing Simon found no home on George's face. "No. Remember, monsters were created to destroy humanity. They nearly did it, too, during the Martyr's era. If it weren't for their sacrifices, the Demon King would have killed everyone. They are still trying, now that the Demon Queen is in charge." George stood from the bed, placing a reassuring hand on Simon's shoulder. "It's normal to have doubts; that's what they want. But that's why we can't afford to show mercy, because if we do, people suffer. People like…" George motioned behind him, towards the stairs leading towards the inn's common room, and Simon knew he meant Mary. "Like what happened with the werewolf that brought us here."

Simon's eyes snapped up, and his frown set the other man back a step. It wasn't what George was saying; that was all the same as what they had heard from the priests over and again, drilled into their heads since they were children cleaning floors and studying scripture. Instead, the kindly face of Father Wulfe came to mind, and Simon knew that the Purifier was wrong when he thought about what had happened to a man that had merely been trying to safeguard his granddaughter. "Father Wulfe tried to protect a child. He was saving someone he loved, someone who didn't choose what had happened to her."

"Someone who would have attacked everyone in this town, if she had fully transformed." Anger had finally found its place on George's brow.

"Then why didn't she? Because he sent her away, not because we came here to burn her grandfather." The words were cruel, and George looked away, wincing visibly. Simon remembered the pained expression that George had borne when Father Wulfe had spoken to them both that final time. It had probably been on his own face as well.

"How do you know that she isn't doing just that, somewhere else?"

"How do you know she is?" The two young men stared at each other, tensed, as the feelings that had haunted them both for days finally came to the fore. Neither of them wavered for a long minute, until finally George looked away with a bitter sigh.

"Listen, we just got a bad first mission, alright? Things here haven't gone the way they are supposed to, but our next assignment will be better." His face brightened, and he leaned closer to Simon to share a secret. "Don't say anything, but I think I know where they might send us next. Some of my friends told me they had been chosen for a big campaign out east. All of the Orders are working together to establish a new foothold near Vindabona, and the rumor is it might be the beginning of a new crusade against the monsters. They were being sent to retake human territory that had been overrun by monsters, near a mining town called Goslar. If we do well here, they might send us to join the fight there next!" Once again he clasped Simon's shoulder, smiling reassuringly. "Just think: if we get sent there, then that is our chance to have our own stories, to be heroes."

Simon nodded, but the other man's words rang hollow to him. Deep down, he knew that they might have a chance to earn their own legends if they went to fight the monsters, but he didn't know if he could spend the rest of his life wondering if he was the villain of his own story. Maybe the monsters there were everything the priests had told them. Maybe they were bloodthirsty and cruel. But how could he strike before he knew?

"Hey, breakfast might be ready by now, right? Let's go see." George's smile was bright enough that it did pull Simon slightly away from his doubts. "Everything will work out fine, just wait and see."

Once more, Simon envied the other man's faith. Still, he nodded, and the two Errants left the innroom behind, headed for a warm meal and less-weighty conversation. Over the next hours to come, Simon would not be able to shake off his doubts and fears, but for a while at least he would be able to relax, to spend time with someone he had come to see as a friend, and that meant more to him than he had realized. Maybe George was right, he would wonder as he leaned back in his chair in the common room, laughing out loud at a joke the other man had told. Maybe everything really would work out just fine.

* * *

Lector Themras stared down at the paper in front of him with a cold smile. He had reviewed the age-yellowed parchment a dozen times already, but still his eyes scraped the truth from it once more. He forced his hands not to shake as he read the shipping manifest, reading over the lists of arcane apparatuses and ritual tools, an incomprehensible catalogue of magical equipment that meant little to the priest, save for the fact that these implements were precisely what he had been searching for. These were tools for a laboratory, not a monastery, despite the fact that the manifest listed the Chapel of Divine Revelation as their ultimate destination.

"Sir? Is this… everything you had wanted?"

Themras glanced to the side, remembering the slight man that had led him to this discovery. The previous day, when he had arrived at this town, larger than Videre but hardly enough to be considered a city, he had been pleased to discover that it served as something of a trading hub for the region. It had taken little investigation to find that the primary shipping company had been founded shortly before the reconstruction of the Chapel of Divine Revelation, and had begun its rise to fame by overseeing the transportation of the supplies needed to rebuild that sacred site. It had received enough profit from that venture to expand, to the point that now it sent caravans from Olissipo to Olympus, Avalon to Palatine, running the whole of the Hellenestic Empire.

Fortunately, however, the founder of that company had obsessively maintained records of the goods shipped through the town, at least at that time. In his honor, those records had been kept, though many had been lost to various mishaps in the intervening century. Still, the specific records that Themras had sought had miraculously survived, proof that his mission was fated to succeed. Now, he only had to pursue the lead this offered, straight back to the monastery, right to that serpent-tongued false sister.

"This will be sufficient. I will be taking this."

"Ah, I don't know if I can let you take that-" The man, a manager at the shipping company, stared at the Lector with wide eyes, but Themras ignored him, brushing past. The other man made no moves to pursue him, as the priest knew would be the case. His was a holy calling, and his mission more important that any base sentimentality that would have them keep these records. If the manager had pressed the matter, Themras would have given him ample reason to regret that decision.

As the Lector walked along the sodden earth, splattered by the drizzling rain that still fell, his mind was removed from such triviality, turned instead towards the next steps he would have to take. Now, his instincts had been proven right once more, and 'Sister Benevolence' had been outed as a liar. On his ride to this town, he had had time to review his conversation with the pompous prioress, and had chided himself for allowing her to escape with such scant responses. His true desire had been to pry from her what she knew of the Arch-Heretic's laboratory, and he had allowed his haste to offer her an escape from his scrutiny. Now, he would have the truth from her, even if it meant relying on other tools than magic. He respected divine incantations, but there was much to be said for the purifying power of flame, even in smaller, more precise dosages.

As the Lector walked into the inn he had claimed as his home for the evening, he noted the surreptitious glances of the fearful throng in the common room, but he paid them no mind. He instead headed straight for his room, his mind whirling with myriad possibilities, faces that might have hidden betrayal all along. If the monastery indeed concealed the laboratory, then it was likely others would have known this, and many of the people of Videre could have conspired to shield it from him. He would have to reexamine them all, until he was certain he had rooted out all of the heretics among them.

As soon as he entered his room and placed the records on the small desk the inn had afforded him, he moved immediately to check his other belongings. Two items in particular worried him whenever he was parted from them, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he discovered that they remained safe. One was a small wooden box, sealed by a metal clasp and decorated with an engraving of the Holy Flame, while the other was a slip of paper, a letter that had grown dingy from frequent viewing. He could recite the latter from memory, but still he unfolded it, allowing the letters to sear themselves into his eyes:

 _You have been chosen. This mission requires a man of abiding faith, someone willing to commit whatever is needed to discover impiety. Your career has been watched since you were spared, and your continued piety is pleasing._

 _Evil dwells in Videre. The Arch-Heretic created a laboratory there for his experiments, back when he pretended allegiance to the faith. Search scrolls and souls for it. It must now be found, and its contents seized. Allow none to see the texts within, and if any try to stop you, they are unworthy of mercy._

 _Failure will not be accepted. Once before, you faced censure for your zeal. Now, it is needed. Heed the will of the faith, and you will be exalted._

The letter bore no signature, other than a seal, a flame with a scroll superimposed. The symbol was similar to that used by the Holy Orders, save that none of them carried a parchment as their unique symbol. If not for an earlier encounter, its meaning would have been lost on Themras, but he knew he would never forget it after that one day.

Excommunication. That had been the threat he had faced that day over a year ago, the punishment under consideration for his acts of faith. He had not long before taken it upon himself to investigate reports of a monster-worshipping cult in a village near to the capitol, and had diligently pursued every lead, regardless of the measures required. In the end, several men had confessed to laying with monsters, and one even claimed a beast as his wife, though the creatures themselves had escaped Themras's pursuit. Still, the heretics at least had been put to the flame, regardless of their social standings.

The Ecclesiastic Council had not seen this as a triumph. They rebuked him for his zeal, accused him of torture and brutality, of murdering the mayor of a wealthy village. They spoke of a town whose people now feared the church, as though such were a bad thing! Righteous fear, Themras knew, was as powerful a tool as righteous anger. As the censuring continued, Themras had faced the bitter old men without regret, his face set like stone, unafraid of his fate. He would gladly have sacrificed his own future to ensure the well-being of those cowering townsfolk, safe from impiety now for generations.

He could still see, in his mind's eye, the room the Council had called him to. It had been immense, enough to make any man feel small. Placed high on a pedestal, an arched table faced the accused, sitting before thirteen high-backed seats, each decorated with the insignia of its occupant. Six of the seats bore the marks of the various militant Holy Orders, while six alternated between those bore the marks of the Archbishops, the leaders of the various civil sects responsible for the administration of the capitol's day-to-day affairs. In theory, these twelve men were the greatest powers in the Hellenistic Empire, and each of equal power and authority, though it was hardly a secret that intrigue and politics had rooted itself even in this highest of councils. Such was clear from the debate over the fate of Lector Themras, which devolved into bickering as several of the Archbishops each claimed the right to determine his punishment, while the six Paladins sat mutely, hardly sparing a glance towards the accused.

The thirteenth seat, the central chair placed above the others and marked with the flame and scroll, sat empty. This had drawn Themras's attention as he had entered the room, but he had quickly deduced it as an honor intended for the man that had founded their faith. It further surprised him, however, that like each of the other seats, this empty chair had an unlit candle placed before it. He had been told that, when it came time to deem him worthy of mercy or not, each member of the Council would vote by either lighting their candle to spare him, or leaving it barren of flame to condemn him. By this point, however, none of the candles were lit, and Themras had begun to resign himself to his martyrdom.

And then, just as Themras explained his justifications for his actions for the seventh time, a flame appeared upon the wick of the central candle. Without a word, in eerie unison, the six Paladins raised their hands, and six more flames appeared on the candles before them. The Archbishops looked as shocked as Themras felt, jaws hanging loosely, but an instant later the six priests all but raced to extend their own hands, regardless of the anger and vitriol they had shown him minutes before, and in a moment thirteen fires danced to celebrate Lector Themras's reprieve.

That moment had changed Themras's life. He had been spared, somehow, by the very father of their faith. Admittedly, he had been consigned to duties within the capitol, under closer supervision. He had accepted this stoically, even though he knew in his heart that his calling laid elsewhere; he would have served better hunting down those who would impugn the faith, and he had felt restless serving as just another sermonizer. When he had been observed by a man sent by the Council, a Prelate of powerful reputation, Themras had even said as much, practically requesting his freedom to search for heretics once more.

And then he had received the letter and the box. The items had been laying inside his chambers when he had returned to them one evening, and he had assumed them a gift from one of the devout inspired by his impassioned sermons, even as he had wondered how they had managed to reach his private room. Upon reading the letter, however, he had immediately realized that he had been granted his wish: a chance to hunt once more, to bring the fire of their faith to dark places, dark hearts.

Themras delicately folded the letter once more, placing it beside the box. He reached out to touch that item, not bothering to open it; just from a simple caress of its wooden surface, he could feel the power dwelling within, and knew that its prize was safe. He felt euphoria at that familiar potency, and clutched the box to him as he knelt on the floor to begin his meditations. Perhaps in time he would require the item inside to pursue his duty, but for now it was enough to hold it, to drink in the holy power it contained as he focused his mind.

Soon, he would return to Videre. His mission was divine, and he would not stop until he found all who turned their backs upon his faith. Whoever they were, whatever their role or power; any who defied him would burn. This thought gave Themras peace and clarity, and he meditated long into the night, his thoughts replete with sacred blood and fire.

* * *

Night had fallen when Simon heard the door to his room open once more. It had been hours since George had left, and he had adjourned to his room after eating dinner, unable to hide his anxiety any more. Even though they had somehow managed to keep George from discovering Gina, Simon couldn't rest until she returned to his room, and had spent much of the evening pacing, tapping his fingers, or futilely attempting to read to distract himself.

When he heard the door creak long after the lights had been extinguished in all the other rooms in the inn, he bolted to his feet, racing around the corner. To his delight, he found Gina standing at the entrance to the room, and he started to bolt to her, his arms outspread. He slowed his pace, however, as he noticed the miserable look on her face, the way her hair and ears were matted and sodden, plastered to her head by rain and mud. The fur across her body was similarly soaked, especially her lower legs, which were caked with mud practically to her knees. She looked to him plaintively, but he offered her a wry smile in response. "I am happy to see you, but you are definitely not getting in the bed looking like that." Her shoulders slumped, but the look she gave him was so full of exasperation that he could hardly restrain a laugh.

His mirth was choked by surprise as he noticed something unusual about her. Now, unlike the other times he had seen her without clothing, she wore fur about her midriff and chest, including fluffy tufts over her breasts. He remembered his earlier contemplations about such that morning, but now she looked almost identical to the illustrations in his textbooks. "Wait, how did you do that?" he asked, pointing to the fur in question.

Gina glanced down before grinning at him sheepishly. She pointed past him, towards the blankets where the wraps he had reclaimed from Mary were waiting. He glanced to them, and then back as he felt an odd power in the air, just in time to see the fur vanish from her body, leaving her chest, stomach, and groin bare once more. "H-hey! Have you always been able to do that?" He stared at her incredulously, but she didn't respond, drawing closer to him with a wide smile, her hips swaying enticingly. "No, you are not going to distract me. The first night you got into bed with me, you could have just made your fur reappear? Why have you been naked all this time?" Now, Gina was within arms' reach of him, and she bit her lip as her paws slid up her stomach towards her breasts. "You are not going to make me forget this that easily!" Simon protested weakly. Obviously, she had probably been taught to wear clothing by either Father Wulfe or Lyra's parents, and that fur would have gotten in the way, so it made sense she would make it vanish while she was dressed. Still, every night she had been in bed with him… had that just been to make her seem more vulnerable? Or so she could seduce him?

Seducing was definitely in her current plans, from the way she had drawn close enough to touch, her eyes capturing his as her damp tail began to wag heavily, slinging droplets of water about the room. However, she drew back, outraged, as he sniffed loudly, flinching away from her. "Sorry, but you need a bath," he demanded, reminded more than a little of the smell of wet dog. She pouted up at him, but suddenly that expression fell away, replaced by a decidedly devious grin. She whined softly, pointing towards the washroom, then extending her paws towards him helplessly. He glanced down at them, noting the puffy paw pads, the indelicate claws. "Are you saying you can't wash yourself because of your paws?" He frowned as he asked the question, trying to imagine her handling a bar of soap, and she nodded enthusiastically, her eyes locked on his as she bit back a smile.

"Well, Mary is gone to bed, so she can't really wash you. I suppose you could sleep on the blankets tonight, and in the morning-" Simon paused as a single claw tapped meaningfully against his breastbone. He blinked, meeting her eyes again, seeing the mischief playing therein. 'Oh, _hells_.' "Are you really suggesting _I_ wash you?" he asked incredulously, and her grin was a transparent answer. She didn't wait for a reply, walking towards the washroom, her hips swaying as she went. 'I bet she really has fur covering her butt, too,' Simon groused internally, but his eyes were prisoners to her naked rolling cheeks. Gina paused at the door to the washroom, looking back to him eagerly, and with a sigh from deep within his chest Simon resigned himself to his fate.

The washroom was a simple affair, tiled with a low stool and buckets of lukewarm water, though on a previous visit Simon had discovered that it featured a bar of soap scented with some floral extract; a further extravagance beyond the presence of the washroom itself. Most poor people would make do with a nearby stream for their bathing, but this inn room had been intended for wealthier patrons. It was barely big enough for two people to fit in, but Gina certainly did not seem to mind such as she took a seat on the stool, picking up a bucket of water and dousing herself with it, shivering as she began to brush away the worst of the mud.

Simon reached for the soap, but Gina interrupted him with a paw, tugging at his clothes expectantly. "Come on, I don't have to undress to wash you." Gina stared at him for a moment, and he crossed his arms before his chest defiantly. He could see her lips turn up at that, and she stood from the stool. Simon fought to control himself, but something about the beads of water rolling down her neck to the slopes of her breasts leashed his eyes, and despite himself he found his gaze wandering her naked body as he swallowed loudly. After a moment of drinking in his gaze, she stepped closer, tapping a claw against his chin to redirect his eyes to hers, and she leaned closer to him, whining softly. It took a long moment for him to remember what she wanted, and a faltering bit of resistance tried to fend her off. "I can wash you just fine with my shirt on, thank you." Her eyes grew larger, and she whined again, her body almost against his, close enough that he feared she would soon discover his physical response to her below his belt. His will snapped as she came ever closer, and he sighed in defeat. "Fine." Gina grinned at that, pressing close enough to kiss his cheek, and he yanked at the bottom of his shirt, stripping down to his breeches. Gina glanced at those, but he shook his head, and with a shrug she allowed him to keep that dignity, though her eyes did wander his chest for a long minute, her tail wagging behind her.

With him sufficiently unclad, Gina returned to her seat, and Simon knelt behind her, taking up the bar of soap without interruption this time. He began to lather her back, spreading the suds across her shoulders, working his way lower. He did not rush, washing her deliberately, but inside his mind was on the verge of collapse at the feeling of her soft skin, at the thought of all the places his hands were about to go. He took his time working the mud from her tail, and she waited patiently, savoring the pampering she was receiving.

After he blushingly washed the heights of her lower cheeks, he paused. The front was next, and she well knew it, glancing back to him with lower lip trapped by her teeth. Instead, he reached for the bucket, and doused her once more, rinsing the suds from her as he dampened her hair. This, too, he washed, and Gina sighed in contentment as he cleaned her hair from scalp to tip, even working her fluffy ears with his fingers.

He couldn't delay any longer. He paused, trying to deduce the least embarrassing way to go about this: should he circle around to kneel before her, or wash her from behind, where she wouldn't be able to see his face, though his fingers may blunder into places by accident? She made that decision for him, however, turning to face him, her legs spread enough that he caught a glimpse of soft lips between them. ' _Oh,_ _hells_.' Gina watched his expression with glee, leaning back on the stool patiently.

Steeling what little remained of his resolve, Simon took up the bar of soap once more. He saw to her face first, scrubbing away a few spots of mud, cautiously keeping the suds from running into her squinted eyes. Rinsing that away, he tended to her arms next, travelling from the skin of her shoulders to the fur of her forearms and paws. He took his time with this safer territory, but soon enough had to move on to her legs, his circuit traveling from lower thigh, down to her doglegged ankles and paws, spending extra effort cleansing each bit of dirt from her fur. Once that was achieved, he glanced up to her expectant face, before soaping up her stomach and rinsing it clean. "There you go, all done-" His brilliant smile faltered in the face of her huff, and she looked down at him disapprovingly, before glancing directly down, her eyes falling on one breast, then the other, pointedly. When he hesitated, she turned again in the stool, leaning back against him, and her paws pulled his hands forward, leaving them resting just in front of her breasts.

Simon's nerves screamed at him, but he nodded, and his hands descended. He felt Gina shiver in his arms as he soaped her breasts, his fingers brushing against the hard nubs of her nipples, and she whined unconsciously, panting softly. He washed her diligently, thoroughly, soaping her breasts entirely, washing from her shoulders down to the undersides, lifting her breasts in turn, and every time his fingers met her nipples she twitched, her voice singing out sweetly. Simon's own control was all but gone, and he gave in to temptation, trapping both of those nubs between his fingers and pinching lightly, and the moan she rewarded him with sent his own passion to new heights.

His eyes widened as he felt her paws on his hands, and she glanced back to him desperately as she guided his arms lower. When his hands reached her lap, he froze, but she kept her eyes toward him, begging him to continue. Feeling entirely out of his depth, Simon nodded, proceeding to the other place he had avoided in his earlier circuit, and his trembling fingers touched her lower lips delicately. Overcoming his nervousness, he cupped his hand, spreading the suds over her lower lips. This was enough to leave her shuddering against him, and her panting resounded in his ears. Soon enough, though, she had him pause, taking up the bucket and rinsing the soap from her breasts and groin, as well as his hand. With that done, she leaned back against him, spreading her legs further, and her paw took his wrist, pulling it down between her legs once more, pressing his hand against a place just below her mound. One of Simon's fingers parted her damp lips, brushing against something there, and she bolted upright with a strangled cry. Gina looked back to him, and there was no mischief in that glance, only a guileless plea. Feeling a surge of control for once, Simon nodded, and his finger slipped again into that place, exploring determinedly. Simon took note of her reactions, quickly finding what made her gasp, and pursued that place with extra enthusiasm, his finger flicking, circling, pressing, strumming. Gina was mashed back against him as she shuddered, and her head turned towards his, her tongue lapping at his cheek. Her paw darted to his wrist once more, pulling him lower, and his finger slipped deeper inside, into her core. He slid his finger in and out, then curled it inside her, and her moan sounded like a passionate scream bitten off at its inception. Her paw soon pulled him higher once more, and he pursued his earlier target relentlessly.

It didn't take very long until she was shaking, and he could tell that she was on the brink of something. He curled his other arm around her, holding her steady, and she pulled that hand to her lips, kissing it needily as her whole body trembled. To his surprise, she bit down on his thumb suddenly, not hard enough to hurt, and he could soon see why, as a wail built within her, louder and louder, muffled only by his skin, else it would have been a howl that may have awoken the whole town. At its climax, she froze, and then slumped against him like a puppet with cut strings, her chest heaving as she looked up at him with bleary eyes full of love and satisfaction.

Simon held her like that for a long moment, conscious of his own throbbing need, but willfully fighting it down. In his arms, Gina was relaxing, the exhaustion of a day spent running through the forest taking a heavy toll on her, and Simon knew the only thing ahead of her tonight was a short walk to the bed, and a long slumber. Accepting this, he leaned her up enough to look for the bar of soap to return it to its resting place. "Oh, there it is," he noted, spotting it near Gina's feet. To his surprise, Gina bent over enough to pluck it from the floor and offer it to him with a hazy smile, and he stared blankly at the bar of soap held perfectly between her claws. "You have to be kidding me." Gina laughed at that, and with a sigh he accepted it from her, returning the soap to its shelf.

Gina made no moves to rise from her seat, her legs still unsteady. Simon reached for a towel and began to dry her, and she allowed him to pamper her further, her eyelids dragging heavily as she leaned into his ministrations. When she was at least satisfactorily dry, Simon stood, but Gina remained on the stool, her head bobbing as she valiantly fought off slumber. Laughing through a sigh, Simon stooped to pluck her from the stool, one arm supporting her back as the other swept under her legs. Her eyes widened at this, but she snuggled her head against his shoulder as he carried her back towards the bed, and she looked almost disappointed as he lowered her to the mattress, but he soon covered her in the blankets, and she relaxed with a deep sigh.

Simon returned to the washroom to put on his nightshirt and remove his breeches, glancing down to his aching member with a sigh. Maybe next time, he consoled himself, and the part of his mind that normally would have protested such hopes remained silent. Instead, he returned to the bed to find Gina already snoring softly, and with a smile Simon extinguished the last candles, removing his glasses and sliding into the bed beside her, holding her body against his tightly. Despite his still-pounding heart, it took very little time for sleep to claim Simon as well, and he joined Gina in slumber with a smile on his lips, his face close to hers.

The night was well into its darkest hours before anything moved in the room. Two sleeping faces were turned towards each other as even the sounds of the rain died away to silence, and the only sounds were two steady breaths. When the shadows began to coalesce, however, no one was awake to notice, and dark laughter went unheard as faint lines began to appear on the floor of the innroom, the first arcs of an arcane circle.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Well, after a cliffhanger is perhaps a bad time to announce this, but there is a strong chance that my next chapter will be delayed. I intend to spend New Year's Eve hammering at the keys, but will be out of town much of this weekend, and my reduced productivity during my break has finally caught up with me; I only finished this chapter this morning. If there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know, as normally I would make a few extra editing passes before publication. Still, I wanted to release this chapter on time, at least._

 _I should note that, originally, this already-oversized chapter was intended to be much, much longer. I was forced to pare off another few (monumentally important) scenes to appear in the next chapter, and can only hope that I am able to work that remainder into a cohesive chapter. Still, Chapter 8 will be an important one, so look forward to that!_

 _On the details about Gina's fur: I will admit, I had been curious about how such would be handled, considering many monster girls feature fur or scales or other concealing details over their breasts and groins, KC's method of keeping the profiles reasonably restrained. As I did further research for this tale, however, I found details in a story in World Guide 2 that display how monster girls use their mana to make such obtrusive fur vanish (I had heard such elsewhere, but seeing it in prose was very useful). Oh, and another thing I found in my research was the Statue of Wisdom, a magical device that is typically shaped like an owl. It was nice to find such, considering how well it tied in with my intents for this story, even if the statue itself doesn't appear…_

 _One other detail that I had to tinker with was the timeline. It is something of a trope that authors have poor senses of scale, and temporal scale is no exception, especially for me. Specifically, I had previously (in exactly one place) given a date for the Last War of the Demon King, when the Seven Heroes were earning their legends. I used the word 'centuries' in the third chapter of this tale, but have refined it to 'over a century.' I find that timeline works best with what I have planned; recent enough for the actors to be important, but distant enough for things to have faded somewhat into legend. I, of course, reserve the right to tinker with it further; in the words of Emerson, "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds," and as much as I like hobgoblins, I would rather not be foolish when it comes to making my story flow better._

 _Before I ramble or jest further, allow me to thank you all once more for reading. I appreciate all the comments I have been getting; the feedback has been very valuable, at only the least for showing me what specifically interests my readers. I shall endeavor to return in a week, if not sooner, and at that time I hope you will return to see what comes next for Simon and Gina._

 _But, for now, so that I can return to the keys all the earlier, it is time for me to sleep…_

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	8. Communion

_The boy in the black cloak found himself in a small room, an office coated in dust. He was alone, and the silence surrounding him was comforting. As he moved, dust stirred with his every move, proof that this chamber had not been disturbed in ages._

 _He glanced around, looking at the bookshelves, the small desk covered in papers, a closet hanging open, revealing priestly robes within. As he moved about the room, there was a sense of hominess about the chamber, though it was small enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic. Still, he sat in the chair and relaxed, and felt at peace, despite the ache of déjà vu that made him feel lost in an unfamiliar world._

 _He barely noticed the door swinging open. When he looked at it, he saw it had opened into another room, a spartan office with a table faced by two chairs. The door beyond that table was closed, yet somehow he knew there was a stairwell behind it, leading somewhere familiar. He felt compelled to go in that direction, yet he stayed, rooted in his seat._

 _Someone unseen was waiting beyond the door. He could sense the presence, larger than imagining, watching him closely as if waiting to see something wondrous. He did not acknowledge it, but he could see the dark clouds gathering at the edges of the doorframe, waiting for him to emerge, and so he kept his place, savoring the peace._

 _"Who_ are _you?" The boy did not respond, looking around the room. "Are you… do you remember, now?" For the first time, that powerful voice seemed unsure, hesitant. "Please, come to me, Paul. You were always my favorite. Come, and see the new world I have made for you."_

 _He did not move. He felt the danger in her words, even though he knew she believed them. He instead sat, and waited, knowing this too would pass. He could sense her agitation, her frustration, and her voice did not hide the anger she felt._

 _"Then I will have you brought to me."_

 _And she was gone, but he knew that she would always be watching him._

* * *

When Gina opened her eyes, she knew something was wrong. She was not in her usual place beside Simon; his warmth was nowhere to be found. She was not in their bed, but she could still smell the room, and his scent, but something else cold and dark. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and she fought to move her arms, finding them bound to her sides.

She looked down, and saw the black chain wrapped around her, holding her aloft. Panic spiked within her, and she struggled against those links, flexing and thrashing, her teeth bared in a deep growl. She looked desperately around the room, finding Simon laying on the floor, ringed by a strange shape that reeked of corrupted mana. She didn't know what the shape meant, but it reminded her of the rune that had been placed on his back, and she knew that was not good at all.

"Ah ah, little pup. You stay right there this time." The voice was cold and mocking, and Gina growled at the dark shape coalescing between her and Simon. It took the form of a pale-skinned woman in ebon armor, silver hair spilling over her shoulders below her armored diadem, which was decorated with black feathers like those on the dark wings spreading from her back. The woman's violet eyes narrowed in a haughty smirk as she waved a finger at Gina triumphantly. "I've had just enough of your interruptions."

Gina glanced past the woman to see the runes around Simon flaring to greater life. She could feel the power centered on that shape, and knew it was building towards its effect. Gina's growls suddenly filled the room as she threw herself at the chains binding her. Desperately, she called on all the power she could muster, and the chains binding her creaked, beginning to strain and stretch, but stubbornly resisting.

"Theriomancy? Impressive. You're not the simple mutt you act like." The other woman smirked at Gina, shrugging without concern, and soon enough Gina paused, panting. "But beast magic is no match for the will of a goddess. He belonged to Her long before you met him. Just accept that, and perhaps, after he is safely in his rightful place, I will find a way to help you escape this town."

Escape. Gina's head hung as she stopped struggling, and she thought of her adoptive sister. She had dreamed of meeting back up with Lyra ever since the day they had parted, but now she could only hope her sister would be okay. Escape would be impossible, after what she would have to do to save the man she loved; she knew that, and she accepted it without hesitation. Gina's head raised, and she looked to see the circle around Simon glowing intensely as he seemed to sink lower, falling slowly into the floor. There was no more time.

Gina's head fell back as she began to howl, a piercing, mournful cry. Her call was long and powerful, ringing outside the room, beyond the window that had opened in the night, into the town. Across Videre, slumbering townsfolk stirred from their sleep, instinctively frightened by the sound. Heads turned towards the inn, and inside several people rose from their beds to investigate.

"You stupid bitch." The pale-skinned woman took a threatening step forward, her face distorted by rage. "You know what they will do to you now." Gina smiled unconcernedly back at her, shrugging as the sounds of feet pounded up the stairs outside. The woman glanced back to the runic circle, realizing she did not have enough time for the magic to complete, and snarled back at the kobold, "This doesn't end tonight." Without a word more, she dissolved into clouds of shadow, but could not escape before the door to the room burst open.

Mary Kramer and her father gaped in shock at the mass of shadow as it fled out the open window, soaring into the night. Grasping for his wits, Charles immediately turned out of the room, rushing to reassure the wakened patrons that all was well, that the sound was merely a dog a guest had smuggled into his room, his broad-shouldered body blocking the entrance to the room. Mary rushed towards Gina as the kobold slumped against the wall, the black chain dissipating. Before Mary could reach her, however, Gina scrambled to Simon's side, noting with immense relief that the arcane circle had faded to a blackened mark on the floor, and Simon showed no signs of harm, blinking wearily up at her as she desperately licked at his cheek. "G-Gina? What's happening? Why am I on the floor?" He looked up through squinted eyes to discover Mary staring red-cheeked down at him, and he desperately reached down to straighten his mussed nightshirt, recovering his modesty entirely too late.

Simon was sitting up, rubbing at his aching temples, when Charles Kramer came into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. The other patrons of the inn had apparently accepted his explanations, their drowsiness overcoming their curiosity, for now at least. Rounding the corner, the hulking innkeep blushed as he noticed Gina was naked, and with a frustrated thought she willed her fur to emerge, covering her once more as she focused on Simon. "What was that about?" the innkeeper asked, frowning at the mark on his floor.

"You tell me. I was asleep, solidly, when all over a sudden I hear Gina howling and I wake up to see… what was that?" Simon's eyes blinked rapidly as he fought to clear his head. Likely, the woman that had attacked him had used sleeping magic to keep him still while she prepared her other spell, and now he was having trouble shaking it off.

Mary and Charles looked to Gina, and she shook her head, but pointed towards the monastery on the mountain. She had recognized the smell of the magic, and she had every reason to believe it came from there. The two standing humans shared a concerned glance as Simon woozily tried to climb to his feet. "Well, that's just one more thing to worry about," Simon groused, staggering to the nightstand to retrieve his glasses and light a candle, Gina hovering close to his side. She would not leave him unprotected until she knew a way to ward off the woman that had tried to take him from her.

"It's not much been a good night, for certain," Charles murmured, but he shook his head before he would elaborate. "If the lass says that thing came from the monastery, though, then I'd bet it's connected to those missing pilgrims you and the priest have been asking about."

Simon nodded slowly, still fighting to stir his brain from its spell-induced haze. "Probably a good thing I didn't go to the monastery alone today, then. I wonder if the Lector's visit to the chapel stirred… whatever that was, to action." He glanced to the side when Gina growled, shaking her head, pointing a claw directly at him. "You think it's after me, specifically?" She nodded, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Great."

"I know that you did it to bring us up here, Gina, and to scare it off, but people are going to talk about the howling. That Lector and George are going to hear rumors, and you know they will come looking for you," Mary warned, reaching out a consoling hand to Gina as the kobold shrugged in resignation.

"Yeah, well, hopefully we won't have to worry about that for much longer." Simon's brave face couldn't hide the regret in his voice. "This is the fifth night that Gina has been with me, and the Lector is still out of town. We just have to keep them off her trail for what, two, three more days, before the caravan arrives?"

Charles responded with a deep sigh. "About that, lad." He looked sympathetically from Simon to Gina, shaking his head slightly. "I was waiting till I heard more in the morning, but the rumors going around aren't good. Seems there's some sort of trouble out east; some kind of new war against the monsters, or something like that." Simon's face paled, and Gina could tell he had probably heard something about that as well. "There's a lot of worry that the Orders will be watching the roads more, since they'll be sending more forces that way. There's a chance that the caravan that comes through here may swing north toward Avalon instead, and that's not much better for her."

Simon didn't reply for a long moment, his face paling as he sat bonelessly onto his bed, staring at nothing as he shook his head. Gina rushed to his side, wrapping her arm around him, and he didn't even respond to that for a long minute, finally reaching up to squeeze her paw.

"We'll think of something, right, Pa? There'll be another caravan, or…" Mary shot a pleading glance to her father, but the large man only shook his head, concern printed boldly on his face.

"Even if we can smuggle her to one of the forests that the Orders don't hunt, then Gina will be living like… an animal. The only monster-friendly towns are those far to the east, near or past the Great Veil, beyond the Hellenistic Empire's grasp." Simon's eyes were unfocused, flicking side to side as he weighed and discarded options. "I'm sure that's where Lyra was sent, too." Gina failed to swallow a whimper, and Simon stroked her paw, reassuring her. "But, that just leaves finding a way to get her there, without raising the Lector's suspicions, which is… not easy." Silence followed his words, the four people in the room lost in their own thoughts and fears.

"Listen, I'll ask around tomorrow, as quiet as I can. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe the caravan will just take one of the southern routes instead." Charles offered Gina and Simon a big, fragile smile, hoping to raise their spirits. "Morning will be here soon enough, and maybe things will be looking up when it arrives."

"Sure." Simon offered the reply with a counterfeit smile of his own, though Gina could still smell fear from him. "Thanks for all your help, both of you. I doubt our surprise guest will be back tonight, but I'll bar the window just in case. We'll figure everything else out tomorrow." He stood from the bed, nodding to the innkeep and his daughter.

"Right. Rest well, both of you." Charles glanced to his daughter, but Mary rushed forward, wrapping first Gina in a tight hug, then Simon. Gina's eyebrow raised at how long the latter embrace lasted, glancing at Simon's brief attire. Charles, however, pointedly looked away.

"Be brave, and we'll work everything out," Mary promised, and Gina and Simon agreed with grateful smiles. She stared at them both a moment longer before nodding and following her father out of the room. The door closed behind them, and the inn was quiet enough that Gina could hear their footsteps descend into the common room.

Simon moved to tend to the window, his brow still furrowed, while Gina stood, moving over to inspect the runic circle still burnt into the floor. She sniffed at it again, the cloying scent of its fading magic still repelling her. Still, the shape itself reminded her of something she had seen before, when she had gone into the tunnels and the big cave with Lyra, back when they had parted. Something about that nagged at her, and she frowned down at the circle, tapping its edge with a claw, until she realized Simon was staring at her with a thoughtful look of his own. "Teleportation magic," he mumbled, and she looked at him and nodded. That woman had been trying to send him somewhere far away from Gina, and that couldn't happen.

Simon was silent for a long while after that, rubbing his chin in thought as he leaned against a wall. Finally, Gina stretched, yawning, and walked to the bed. With a thought, she used her mana to remove the fur on her torso – Simon liked that, she knew – and crawled back into the bed. She lifted the sheets and barked quietly, summoning him to bed.

He glanced at her in surprise, then nodded. He crossed the room to the bed, removing his glasses and extinguishing the candle once more. As he settled under the blankets, Gina pressed against him possessively, trying to cover the lingering scent of the bad magic with the smell of her body. Simon snuggled into her, his arm sliding down to support her head, and she nuzzled his shoulder gratefully. Soon enough, they both lay still in the silence, their hearts beating close to each other, mutual warmth soothing tense muscles, as their embrace offered a bit of respite from the encroaching dangers of the world.

It did not, however, offer an easy return to sleep.

* * *

Simon sighed into the darkness, his mind still whirling. It had been at least an hour since he had returned to bed after the attack, and still he couldn't lull his mind to slumber. It wasn't fear of another attack that kept his eyes open; he felt fairly certain that dark assailant wouldn't be back so soon after it had been warded off by Gina's howling. It would know he was aware of it now, and that meant that it wouldn't attack the same way twice.

No, his concern was focused on the kobold that lay cuddled up to him. She had saved him with her howling, but now he had to think of a way to protect her in turn. What Mr. Kramer had said only made matters worse, especially since it dovetailed with George's words earlier in the day about the Orders marching on the town out east, Goslar or whatever it was called. Hopefully Mr. Kramer would be right, and the caravan would find another way to take Gina to the east. If not, Simon would have to get creative, and his overtaxed mind wasn't offering him much help in that regard. He had considered every direction, every route leading from Videre, but all of them lead towards areas that the Orders patrolled. This far west, monsters had gradually been hunted until they had moved away from civilization, except at the coastline, where the sea provided a natural sanctum for monsterkind. It was no place for a kobold, however. The desert lands to the south, across the sea, were outside the empire's boundaries, but reaching them was no easy task. No, the only sure way was to the east, towards the Great Veil and the monster territories beyond.

Gina sighed into his shoulder, squirming against him, and he stroked her back with his hand, smiling down at her. "You can't sleep either, huh?" She looked up at him for a moment before shaking her head. "Sorry," he apologized lamely, and she squeezed his chest with her arm. Staring back at the ceiling, Simon shook his head. Not only did he have to find a way to save Gina, but he also had to do it while not getting kidnapped himself. This drew a wry smile to his lips, and he glanced back down to Gina. "You wouldn't know any way to ward monsters off from me until we get you to safety, would you?" He blinked down at her in the darkness as he felt her start, and the dim light from the window was just enough for him to see the gleam of her eyes as she looked up at him in thought. "Yeah, I didn't think so," he chuckled, not noticing the intensity of her gaze.

Safety. That was the goal. He just needed to get her out of Videre, but the means of transportation was the issue. He knew that Lyra had managed it somehow, thanks to the 'Watcher in the Shadows' from Father Wulfe's hidden note, but if that were still an option Gina would have led him in that direction already. A nagging thought pricked at his brain, and he thought of Gina kneeling beside the arcane circle that had nearly claimed him. It was a rune of teleportation, he was sure, but reproducing it would only send Gina to wherever he had nearly been taken, and that wasn't a safe option, even if he could. Still, that made him remember something else: a book. _Thesis on Teleportation_. He had seen it before, in the abbot's office, amid the books that the prioress had brought for the Lector to look at. She had said that it came from the archives, but that really meant the forbidden library in the catacombs – and her showing it to him had to be a trap, he knew. Still, if Gina was right and the person that had attacked him had come from the monastery, then that was all the more proof that they knew ways of magical transportation, and if he had that knowledge, then perhaps he could send Gina somewhere himself. He had a talent for learning spells; perhaps he could handle something that wasn't the holy magic he was accustomed to. That just meant making a trip to the forbidden library, however…

He paused, suddenly aware of the change in Gina's breathing. He glanced down at her, concerned, and found her looking up at him with a nervous smile. She began rubbing against him, grinding her body against his, as her paw stroked his chest. He blinked at this sudden change in her behavior, but she was committed, leaning in closer to his face, her lips parted slightly. Their kiss was needier than Simon had expected, the anxiety that had been eating at him chased away by her heat as her tongue surged against his. His eyes opened wider as he felt her move, sliding atop him to straddle his hips, but she didn't end their kissing, only increasing the pace and passion. He thought about interrupting her, asking her what had brought this on, why she had chosen now, and whether she was certain or not, considering everything that might happen. As usual, he thought too much, and knowing that, he relaxed, letting her certainty lead the way.

Still, when she paused, he looked to her for confirmation. She met his gaze as she straightened and reached down with her paws, grasping his wrists as she brought his hands up before her, his palms facing her breasts, yet not quite touching them. She left his hands there, her eyes never leaving his, and he laughed despite himself. For all his worrying, she was letting him making the decision. He could stop, or he could take the next step, and there wouldn't be any stopping after that.

Gina moaned in unabashed pleasure as his hands descended, massaging her breasts once more, his fingers quickly finding the hardened nubs and gently twisting them, which made her hips unconsciously shift atop him, drawing an appreciative grunt from him. She rocked atop his nightshirt-covered shaft as he caressed her chest, his eyes wide with wonder at how soft her breasts felt as he lifted them, his thumbs circling her areola. She looked down at him with a smile that he lacked words to describe, love and excitement and need and joy and hope all mixed into a grin he would never forget, and she leaned in once more to kiss him, her paws keeping his hands on her chest. Still he slid one hand free to wrap it around her back, hugging her against him until their faces were next to each other, his lips close to her fluffy ear. "I love you, Gina."

"I love you, Simon."

Simon froze, his eyes wide as Gina straightened, smiling down at him. He stared at her with questions in his gaze, and she didn't reply, merely biting her lip as she resumed rocking atop him, sliding her lower lips against his rigid member. He couldn't be certain he had heard her voice, or if he had just imagined it, but the look in her eyes told him the words had been true, fantasy or not.

She looked pointedly down at his free hand, and he came back to his senses with a sheepish smile, returning to his attentions on her chest. She threw her shoulders back as she rode him, letting his fingers explore every inch of her breasts, her eyes drinking in his expression as she rose and fell against him again and again, her breath echoing out of time with his, but no less raggedly. Finally, she reached up to take his wrists once more, and he barely had a chance to look disappointed as she led his hands away before he noticed her shimmying back towards the foot of the bed, her hips swaying seductively. She glanced down at his nightshirt, and one soft paw slid up the outer extent of his leg as she looked to him with an unspoken question. Swallowing, Simon nodded, reaching down to seize the bottom of his nightshirt. A moment later and the cloth drifted to the floor in a half-ball, as Gina stared hungrily down at the body he had just offered to her. Her eyes stayed frozen to his shaft for a long moment, but she leaned in close to his upper body, kissing against him, greedily inhaling his scent as her lips traced the faint muscles of his chest.

Her sniffing grew louder as her kisses wandered southward, and her eyes rolled back as her nostrils flared, finding the source of the masculine scent that had taunted her for days. Simon watched her with an embarrassed grin, but his own expression melted into ecstasy as she extended her tongue and ran it up the length of his lower self. That lick was the first of many as her tongue battered him, a steady rhythm that was both hypnotic and maddening. He gasped as her tongue lifted his sack, one side then the other, still the same unceasing pace of pleasure.

Despite the intensity of the ecstasy he felt, it took Simon a while to reach his climax, his earlier blunted desire delaying his orgasm. Gina showed no signs of tiring, however, her tongue unceasingly caressing him in a way that made him claw at the sheets, desperate for release. Finally he felt a pleasure building in him, roaring through him like an oil-fed flame, spreading from his loins to consume his brain, and he wordlessly moaned as he felt the pressure surge inside of him. He felt, though he lacked the cognizance to recognize, Gina's mouth clamp down on him as she ferociously sucked at his member, and it answered her command, flooding her mouth with his seed.

Simon did not think for a minute afterwards, his whole body glowing with passion like a fading ember, and he laid senselessly against the mattress as his chest fought to slow his breathing. He heard Gina swallow loudly, and looked at her to see her wipe her mouth with a paw, only to lick the fur afterwards, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she met his gaze. "T-thank you," he gasped, and she nodded, her body shaking from side to side needily. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Simon pushed himself up from the bed with a grin. "Now. Let me return the favor, okay?" Gina's eyes went wide at that suggestion, and he couldn't help but smile at the hope and hunger in those warm depths. He reached out, pulling on shoulder to guide her to the mattress, and she surrendered to his direction.

As she settled, he turned to light the candle, climbing from the bed. While he was occupied, Gina settled into the bed, and Simon turned to find her looking up at him submissively, her paws and legs spread wide. Something in that expression stoked his desire to new heights, and he eagerly climbed atop her, staring into her eyes. She met that gaze before closing her eyes, lifting her mouth to lick his chin and cheek. He enjoyed that, but soon kissed her lips, and she relaxed, baring her throat to his nipping kisses as he moved lower. Her breasts distracted him, and she moaned softly as he suckled on each breast in turn, his teeth carefully trapping her nipples for his tongue to flick against. His kisses grew in force as he stayed in place, but as she began to squirm on the mattress he continue his southward trek, exploring her tight stomach, darting his tongue into her navel, freeing a giggle from her lips.

He made his way down to her mound before pausing, her rich, musky scent thick in his lungs. He stared at his destination with a mix of desire and desperation, praying he could do what he had in mind. However, his favored reading material, _The Knight of the Pink Lilly_ , had not been quite concrete enough in its descriptions, and Gina's lips looked remarkably less floral than his inexperienced mind had pictured. Still, with a shrug he moved in, his tongue leading the way, and as he lapped between her lips, his mouth all but immediately wet from her moistness, she shuddered a groan that told him he was doing well enough. He took a lesson from her own attentions, giving her long licks from bottom to top as he enjoyed her flavor, and she writhed with mewling cries, especially when his tongue dipped deeper into her opening. Finally, her paws captured his head, directing him to the nub at the peak, and his slow licks picked up their pace, leaving her panting frantically.

After a while of that, he felt her paws rest on his shoulders, and he lifted his face from her, wiping excess moisture away with the back of his hand. She was looking at him with a desperate need, whining softly, and it took him just a moment to realize what she wanted next. Steeling his heart, he nodded to her, and her brilliant smile became the second memory from that evening he would treasure.

She rose onto her knees, pulling him up to kiss him deeply as her paw reached down to stroke his now-recovered stiffness. He groaned into her mouth, his own hand sliding up her inner thigh to press against her lips, and she shuddered against him as he slid a finger in and out of her hole. As she drew back, her eyes dimmed by lust and need, he paused, and she bit her lip as she shifted once more, turning away from him. A moment later and she glanced back over her shoulder at him, now lowered to her knees and elbows, her pink lips framed between her swaying thighs, her tail wagging gently. His eyes traveled from that delight to her eyes and back again before he mustered his courage, taking his place on his knees behind her, lining his member up with those glistening lips. She shivered as his lower head brushed against her sensitive clit, and a moment later he found the tight opening he was looking for, pressing into it as gently as he could manage. He paused as he heard her whine, and he watched her as she panted, but she nodded a moment later, and he resumed his progress, until finally he was completely engulfed by her warmth and wetness.

He couldn't move for a minute afterwards, lost in the feeling of her gripping him, the connection between them too intense for him to think of anything else. She was the first to take action, rocking her hips back and forth, and he followed suit, trying to time his own swaying with hers. She made quiet sounds every time he plunged in as far as he could, but her pace only increased, and he reached down to hold her hips, trying to keep himself steady. He blushed as his member slid free of her after a powerful thrust, but she waited patiently as he guided himself back to her opening, and she rewarded him with a throaty groan as he pressed back deep inside.

The sounds of their hips slamming together filled the room, mixed in with heavy breathing and needy sighs and punctuated by the creaking of the bed. One of Simon's hands wandered down to grip one of her cheeks, and her tail wagged against him as he rocked back and forth. Simon let his head hang back as he felt a familiar pressure building inside of him, and he increased his pace, plunging hard against her with every thrust. The short moans coming from where she had buried her face in a pillow spurred him onward, and he could feel her tightening around him as he drove against her harder, answering her silent plea. Their rhythm began to slip in favor of speed, the beat lost to the pace as they slammed into each other like rutting animals, pleasure dissolving their thoughts into mush.

It ended as Simon felt her spasm around him, and luckily her cries were muffled by the pillow she was biting, else it may have been a howl louder than the one before. Her orgasm rippled around him, and that was enough to force him over the edge. His crazed thrusting lost all semblance of tempo as he felt himself spilling into her, and she threw herself back against him, greedily claiming all he had to give. Finally he collapsed against her, mashing her into the bed, his softening member still inside her as he panted for breath, wiping sweat from his brow as he listened to the cooing moans of satisfaction she was giving him.

Simon pulled himself out of her, rolling over and scooting into his proper place in the bed as he managed to catch his breath, relaxing in a way he had never felt before. Gina, however, only scooted to the side, keeping her hips high as she brought her face close to his, kissing him and licking his face in turns, and he returned her affection as his hand caressed her back. She waited only a minute before finally climbing back under the blankets, scooting close to him again, resting her head on his bare shoulder with a smile of contentment.

As he petted her again, he could tell she fell asleep almost immediately. He didn't begrudge her that; exhaustion was finally having its way with him as well. Instead, he devoted his last thoughts to what lay in front of him. Now, more than ever, he was determined to save her. He would send her from Videre, and then he would rejoin her, even if it meant leaving everything else he knew behind. He would trust the caravan if it was an option, but otherwise he would find another way. The forbidden library was his best hope otherwise, and he could sneak in there the same way Gina had eluded George that morning, so long ago.

That confidence gave Simon the final peace he needed, and he clutched Gina to him as he closed his eyes and let his mind still. They would be alright now. Just another day or two, and he could save them all. When his breathing slowed, he was smiling up at the heavens, ready for whatever might come.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and now he had hope enough to face it.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** My apologies again for the slight delay in releasing this chapter, but the past week has been incredibly hectic. So much so that my apology comes with a second regret: I fear I am going to have to go to weekly releases for this story, considering a recent change in my employment status. I have been a part-time English teacher this year, which made for poor paychecks even as three planning periods gave me plenty of time to write. Just Wednesday, however, a shift in our faculty saw me promoted to full-time, with two extra classes. With six classes now, including four distinct preps, and a two-hour after-school program every day, time has just become more precious. With that said, I do not intend to stop writing; I just may suffer a few delays, and will have to drop to one chapter a week instead of two. Again, my apologies for this._

 _As for the story itself, now that our lovers have finally made that big step, it's time for the story to head for a climax of its own. Next chapter may just include an introduction, so look forward to that. I will return next Friday with Chapter 9, and hope you will rejoin me to see where the story goes from here!_

 _Now, I need to return to the key. Eventually, though, I will find time to sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	9. Sepulture

As morning light kindled the cloudy skies, George Lambton knew he had found what he had been looking for. He knelt down, staring at the rain-softened earth intently, his eyes tracing the fresh gouges in the ground, noting the claw marks, the rounded impressions of paw pads, the depth of the prints. After nearly a week of searching, his vigilance had paid off. There was a kobold in the forests outside Videre, and now he could track it.

"Find something, lad?" George straightened at the sound of the voice, glad that the prints were old enough that he didn't have to worry about the mercenary's loud voice or sour stench scaring off his prey. Instead of answering, he motioned to the ground before him, and Sergeant Pascual drew close enough to squint at the soft earth, his brow furrowed dubiously. "Paw prints, aye?" He drew the cigar from his lips, ashing it to the side offhandedly. "Wolf?"

George shook his head, pointing to a few of the more distinct marks. "No, these are too deep."

"Really big wolf?"

Sighing, George shook his head again. "Whatever made these marks walked on two legs." He indicated the length of the stride. "Human-sized, too. No, these are almost certainly kobold prints, which means we've found one of the monsters Father Wulfe kept."

"Well, I'll be damned," Pascual muttered, straightening with a wince as his sore spine protested. The pair had been hunting for hours since he had forced himself from his warm bed, and it was having a greater effect on the aged mercenary than on the spry Purifier. "I figured it would've been leagues from here by now, after what you did to the old priest."

George winced at that tacit condemnation, but his eyes still followed the trail, noting the broken branches ahead, the path that wandered through the woods. If he hunted now, while his quarry's marks were still fresh, he might be able to find it at last. Then, he could perhaps end this mission, and he and Simon could move on from Videre to a real assignment, to real glory. That thought chased away any questions about what would happen to the kobold when he caught her, and he straightened as well, determination burning in his eyes.

It was time to end this hunt. "Come on, let's move," he ordered, and broke into a trot as he followed the prints, trusting the mercenary would follow behind. He heard and ignored the older man's aggrieved sigh, his mind racing faster than his feet as he pressed into the forest. He wanted to act before anything could conceal the trail, desperately driven to find his prey at last.

After all, unless he was mistaken, these prints were leading towards Videre, and that worried him greatly for reasons he couldn't yet explain.

* * *

Simon did not wake easily that morning. Every time his brain made the first steps toward wakefulness, the warmth of Gina's body in his arms soothed him back to slumber. Somewhere distantly, he knew he had things to do, plans that he had half-conceived the previous evening, but the urgency behind them was stripped away by the softness of her skin, her rhythmic breathing, the way their bodies were perfectly intertwined. They weren't even laying like normal; instead, he faced her, clutching her tightly to him, and he could feel her pressed against every inch of his naked body, her heat seeping into his muscles.

Naked. His eyes opened as the previous night replayed itself in his mind's eye, and immediately his lower self flexed in immediate wakefulness. He remembered everything, but couldn't pay mind to the more pressing concerns until his brain had savored all of the highlights from his first time with Gina, even going as far back as her bath hours before they had made love. Shifting uncomfortably as his erection grew, he tried to withdraw his hips from Gina, but she grunted in her sleep, tightening her grasp on him, which did very little to reduce the issue rising between them. Simon looked down at her with a smile, strongly tempted to wake her for a second round, but he knew that there were serious issues he needed to take care of, and if he wasn't careful he would be tempted to spend the whole day in her arms.

His ardor cooled slightly as he replayed his plans. His invisibility magic had worked on Gina, fooling George completely, and he could maintain it on himself for far longer. He would make the trek to the monastery, then use his magic to slip inside before the nuns noticed him. From there, he would find the hidden passage into the catacombs, and explore them until he found the oft-mentioned forbidden library where the prioress kept the tomes on arcane magic. Once he found that, he would research until he found a way of getting Gina clear of Videre, and then he would return, hopefully long before Lector Themras returned and heard of the howling in the night. As far as plans went, Simon felt fairly confident that it could work, but he admitted that he would have to play things by ear if events didn't go as planned. He could always claim he was merely investigating at the Lector's command if he were caught during his infiltration by the nuns, but such an excuse may not matter if Gina was right and the creature that had attacked him the previous night indeed came from the monastery.

He squeezed Gina tightly, sighing into her hair. He loved her too much to put this off, as anxious as he was beginning to feel. He would have to be separated from her for a while if his plan worked, but if he could save her, then they could wait for each other until he found a way to reunite with her. He didn't want to think about what he might have become if he had never met her, but he couldn't let himself think about their possible future together either, considering how little of the world he knew outside of the Hellenistic Empire's borders. All that mattered was her safety, and the rest would come in time.

He looked down at her, and found she was awake, looking up at him with an unreadable expression. He smiled at her, lowering his lips to hers gently, and when he drew back his heart swelled at the joy on her face as she pressed fiercely against him. "Good morning, darling," he said, and she beamed as she claimed another kiss from him. He felt her hips shifting, and he noticed the way she looked at him, but he shook his head bashfully, regret thick in his voice. "I have to get up. I have to go-" Her lips interrupted him, as her tongue pressed into his mouth, and he felt her grinding against him more intensely, a rolling caress of his lower body by hers that stoked his earlier erection back to full heat. Laughing in pleased surprise and crumbling resolve, Simon gave Gina a mockingly-stern stare. "I have work to do, you know, for both of us-" Gina rolled her eyes as he spoke once more, cutting him off with another kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck to hold him close as they tasted each other, tongues dancing from mouth to mouth. She had captured his member between them, and the rubbing of their bodies around it made him groan into her mouth. She drew back, baring her neck and pulling him close, and he complied by kissing his way from her jawline to shoulder, then towards her throat, teasing her by attacking that sensitive skin with lips, tongue, and teeth, drawing hissing sighs and needy caresses from her. He paused, pulling back to look at her once more, and the lust in her eyes sealed his fate. "Alright, just a little, but that's it, okay?"

Gina smiled mischievously, and her eyes dared him to hold to that resolve. They both knew he wouldn't, and they were right.

* * *

"Have a slow morning?" Charles Kramer shook his head at Simon as the younger man staggered into the inn's common room. "Can't blame you after that shake-up last night. Want some breakfast?"

"Sure." Simon plopped onto a stool at the bar in front of Charles, lowering a collection of books onto its polished surface as he rested his staff against the neighboring stool. When the innkeep raised his eyebrow, looking at the belted bundle, Simon explained with a lowered voice. "In case George comes looking for me. He enjoyed these yesterday, and I thought it would, ah, save him a trip up to my room if he wanted to borrow one." Charles Kramer's eyes widened as he nodded appreciatively at Simon's foresight, obviously glad neither he nor Mary would have to fend off the issue if the Purifier Errant came around, since Gina would be alone in the room. Simon leaned in closer, remaining as casually poised as he could despite the topic of their conversation. "Any word on the caravan?"

The innkeep nodded, his regretful expression answering the question before his words could. "A merchant just came in this morning from their last stop. He said the rest of the group already turned north towards the channel, headed for Avalon City before they move on to the rest of Albion. They won't even be stopping by Videre at all."

Simon frowned, but quickly hastened to reassure the other man. "That's fine. I have another plan… it's risky, but I think I know of a way. I'm going to the monastery to find what I need, but I might need help this evening. At the least, if the Lector returns, I'll need you to let him know I am investigating the monastery, so he won't go searching for me."

"Easy enough." Charles nodded a salute to the younger man as Simon started to slide off the stool. "But you should stay for breakfast, at least. Plus, Mary's been worried about you all morning. She hasn't stopped fretting since she woke up, and I finally told her to go tend to the washing to keep her from setting the kitchen on fire on accident." He nodded towards that room, where Simon presumed a rear door led towards the stream behind the inn. Nodding, Simon slid back onto the stool, and the innkeep turned to fetch him a plate from the kitchen.

As Simon waited, his mind danced from thought to thought frantically. He was worried; worried for Gina's safety, worried for Mary and her father who had put themselves at risk for them, worried for his own fate, as well as worried about what might await him in the forbidden library. Still, he took comfort in the knowledge that Gina rested contentedly upstairs, and in the broad relieved smile that Mary gave him as she came into the common room, rushing to his side. His life had certainly become more complicated in the past week, and more dangerous for that matter, but at the same time he had found something he had lacked ever since he had been taken from his parents: people he loved, who supported him and stood beside him.

And if he had to risk his life for them, all those he had come to care for so much, then so be it.

* * *

Gina's ear twitched as she heard the door to the room open, but a familiar scent left her relaxed despite the intrusion. Mary rounded the corner, a basket in her arms, and the human girl smiled at Gina as she saw her curled atop the bed. "Time to get up. Simon's already had breakfast and left for the monastery, lazybones," the human girl teased, but Gina didn't rise to the bait, instead whining at the thought of her lover going alone into that place once more.

Mary heard the sound and winced at her own tactlessness, but busied herself gathering up Simon's laundry, straightening the room as she went. "Pa says that the caravan isn't coming, but Simon said he had something in mind to save you. People are talking about the howling last night, but it should be fine for now, least till that Lector comes back." She paused to offer Gina a brave smile. "I'm sure Simon will figure things out before then."

Gina nodded, but still curled into herself further as she watched Mary scowl down at the seared mark on the floor, scratching at it futilely with her shoe in the hopes of removing the black mark from the wood. Sighing, Mary continued about the room, and Gina watched her with faint curiosity, allowing the human girl to distract her from her fears. Mary turned towards her suddenly, pointing at the mattress under Gina. "Oh, I need to make the bed, if you don't mind getting up."

Gina's ears perked in alarm as she considered that, particularly the moist spot in the bed from her and Simon's lovemaking earlier that morning. She shook her head in a panic, waving her paws, as Mary stared at her in surprise. "Come on now, you can't just lay about in an unmade bed, get up and-" Mary paused, emotions flickering across her face as she stared at the kobold's bared chest. Gina glanced down, blushing as she noticed the mouth-shaped bruises Simon had left on her skin. Mary's lips tightened as she recognized the marks as hickeys, and when she met Gina's eyes there was something cold and distant there. "Oh… I see. So, you two are… together now? I'm… happy for you, really…" Gina could see the moisture building in Mary's eyes, and she lunged from the bed, pulling the girl into a hug before she could sprint off. Mary resisted feebly, but Gina refused to release her, instead nuzzling her head against the other girl's compassionately.

"I should have guessed. I mean, I always thought there was something, but I… I hoped that he might notice me. He's always so nice, and so handsome, when you get past the hair. I mean, I've just known him nearly a week! But he's the first guy that's made me feel this comfortable, and he's so smart and kind, I had wanted…" Mary shook slightly in Gina's arms, and Gina stroked her hair softly, rocking her body back and forth. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to fight you for him or anything, but I still…"

Gina shook her head, her face buried in the other girl's neck. Humans were always so complicated, and they thought entirely too much. How silly was it that humans could understand families, but not packs? Gina pulled back, smiling at the other girl, who sniffled in response, moisture trickling down her cheeks. Lacking the proper words, Gina held her paw in front of the other girl, displaying three claws. Mary squinted at that, confused, and Gina sighed in frustration.

"I don't know what you're trying to say, but…" Mary sighed, collecting herself and wiping at her eyes. "I can't be angry at you. I can't. Still…" Mary looked at the floor, her brow furrowed, for a long moment. When she raised her head, there was something different in her brown eyes, something hot and hard, but not sharp. "I don't have to give up on him either, do I?"

Gina's smile bared her fangs, but was not a threat. Mary had more spirit than she had thought. The human girl might make for a good member of the pack, if she learned when to submit. Gina stepped closer again, her teeth still gleaming, her chin raised, and met Mary's stare with confidence.

Mary held that gaze for a long moment before nodding and looking away. "All right then. I'm not giving up. I'll have my chance." She seemed to be reassuring herself as much as warning Gina, and the kobold didn't move. Mary glanced back to her, and her old smile started to appear once more. "I'd started thinking of you as a sister, but… I guess this makes us rivals, then."

Mary extended a hand, and Gina pressed her paw against it. Their handshake brought a bright smile to both of their faces. Gina watched as Mary collected the rest of the laundry and headed for the door, an unfamiliar excitement tickling at her heart. Whatever this meant, Gina decided, it was going to be fun.

* * *

Simon stared at the doors to the monastery from behind a manicured shrubbery, impatiently gripping his staff as he waited for that impressive portal to yawn open. This was one part of his intended infiltration he had not planned for; once he was in the monastery, he presumed he would be able to sneak to the catacombs easily enough thanks to his invisibility magic, but he knew from experience that the nuns tended to watch for those who entered the monastery. Since the doors were far too heavy to open due to an errant wind, it would be suspicious for them to move without anyone coming in. His brief scouting of the monastery had revealed a few other possible entrances, but he faced many of the same issues with those. After musing on this a while, he had decided to wait until he saw someone entering the building and trail behind them, but the road up the mountain had been barren of travelers thus far, and he hadn't seen any of the sisters come or go for quite some time. The importance of his mission gnawed at him as he watched, and he fidgeted anxiously, hoping that someone would finally appear and offer him a chance to slip inside.

His prayers were answered as he spotted one of the sisters walking toward the entrance along the outer wall of the monastery. She clutched a pair of long-handled shears and a deep basket in her padded work gloves, and stray sticks and sprigs of greenery dotted her ebon habit as she ambled towards the door, whistling a merry tune. Realizing this was his chance, Simon closed his eyes and concentrated on the shape of a familiar rune, the focusing implement he had been taught for that spell. He felt a surge of energy pass over his skin, raising goosebumps over his arms, as _Blindness of Impurity_ took effect. He glanced at his hand, noticing an iridescent sheen over his flesh and clothes, the sign that the magic was working. Mustering his courage, he marched swiftly towards the door, taking all the care he could to be silent, conscious of every shifting stone under his feet.

The sister reached the entrance just as Simon drew near, and he barely managed to slip inside behind her as the door swung closed, holding his breath while he shadowed her progress. They had only just entered the narthex when she paused, and he heard a faint sniffing sound as she looked around. Swallowing silently, Simon stepped away from her, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to muffle his movements, keeping his staff raised high to prevent it from striking the floor. The sister waited a long moment, a broad smile spreading on her lips, before she began to whistle once more, proceeding into the monastery as she swung her basket at her side. Simon's shoulders slumped in relief as he fought to choke back a deep sigh, but he allowed himself only a moment before he resumed his course.

The narthex was empty of both nuns and pilgrims, aside from the solitary gardener, who progressed into the nave and turned towards one of the aisles at the sides. Simon allowed her a head start before he followed her, entering into the main chamber of worship with a cautious glance around him, checking his skin once more for the gleam of magic that protected him. The nave was silent, but groups of sisters stood along the walls, whispering in hushed conversations, laughing with tinkling tones that were soon swallowed by the empty space. Simon was able to make swift progress through that open chamber, but found himself looking around warily as he fought to stifle any sound that might betray him with a resounding echo. His cautious attentiveness revealed new details of that room to him as he made his way to the pulpit: the stained glass windows and pillars were just as he had seen before, but several of the supporting pillars sported fanciful carvings below their cornices, including sculptures of birds that protruded outwards. In particular, Simon noted several stone owls, and a shiver ran up his spine as he noticed that many of them seemed to be peering in his direction. Chalking his unease up to paranoia, he nevertheless pressed onward, hurrying as best he could towards the area beyond the pulpit, which held pews intended for the choir.

The ambulatory arched around the choir's pews, and he followed that path. The curved walls featured stone pillars with decorated wooden panels between them, and Simon suspected one of them would feature the hidden path the prioress had mentioned to him on his first visit to the monastery. He felt along the panels as he went, searching for any latch or groove, but froze in place as he noticed one of the nuns walking along the ambulatory towards him. Her face was overshadowed by her wimple as she kept her head down, but her lips were curved in a faint smile, and he pressed against the wall to allow her ample room to pass by, checking his skin once more for the telltale glimmer of magic. Fortunately, his spell still held, and the sister passed by without noticing him, though his racing heart refused to slow until she was gone from sight.

His search resuming, he quickly discovered a hidden latch in one of the edges of the paneling. He was surprised he had found it so easily, but he had quickly focused on that spot; it felt as though he had seen it before, perhaps in a dream. Checking all directions rapidly, he took a deep breath and triggered the latch, wincing as the panel scratched against the floor as it swung away from him. He slipped inside and hastily closed the panel behind him, hearing it click back into place with a grim finality, sealing him into near-darkness. Taking a deep breath, Simon paused to feel for the latch on this side, and was relieved to discover it almost immediately, but turned from that door to face into the shadows ahead.

The path soon descended down a twisting staircase, and as Simon followed it he noticed that the route was lit by ensconced torches that burned dimly. He paused at one of them, examining it as closely as he could. He suspected it was enchanted to burn for a very long time; the alternative was that someone had recently come down into these catacombs, and had left torches lit behind them. That option did not make him for especially comfortable, but he pressed on, blinking away the afterimage the torch had left with him as he willed his nightvision to return.

Soon enough, the stairs ended at an uneven floor. The walls of this underlevel looked largely unfinished, though they sported the same lit sconces as the stairwell, and the floors were rough and scattered with loose stones. Simon watched his steps as closely as the path ahead, noticing that the floor of the catacombs seemed warped in places, as if the earth itself had twisted before resting once more. Perhaps the original builders of these halls had been more ancient than he had expected, or less skilled, or perhaps the earth had settled in strange ways over time. He could see dark streaks on the walls, as if moisture had stained the stones drip-by-drip over the decades, and in the places where those tracks descended the ground looked especially turbulent.

As he made his way through the cavernous halls, he spotted places where the stone had been worked into shelves and boxes. Inside, he suspected, bones were wantonly heaped, the last remnants of heroes and priests fading from memory into dust. This ossuary was appropriately grave-silent, such that his shuffling feet seemed to intolerably rend the quiet, and he bowed his head respectfully to the tomb-boxes as he passed, saluting the fathers of faded faiths and champions of wars unwritten by the ages. He felt like an invader among the dead, and childishly hoped his passage wouldn't disturb their slumber.

Finally, he arrived at a likely room: a massive chamber with an arched roof, lined by columns that protruded from the walls, forming cul-de-sacs lined with bone-shelves. At the end of that passage stood a door, the first of its kind he had seen in these catacombs, and a thick chain crisscrossed the edifice as if restraining whatever lay inside as much as to protect it from intruders. That was probably the entrance to the forbidden library he had come to plunder, he surmised, and stepped towards it resolutely. Thankfully, he hadn't seen anyone down in the catacombs, so he doubted he would be disturbed once he entered the library. Now, to find the _Thesis on Teleportation_ -

He paused in mid-step, glancing down to see the ground ahead of him glowing dimly. His eyes traced the runic form that pulsed upon the stone floor as if alive, and his heart clenched as he recognized the shape from that which had been burnt into the floor of his innroom. It seemed that Gina and the Lector had been right after all: someone from the monastery had tried to kidnap him, and almost certainly this was where many of the missing pilgrims had been taken, sent from here to somewhere else and not seen again.

He stared down at the rune, watching the arcane light shimmer and flare as he considered the implications of the spellwork in front of him. If the rune had been used in the past, it would be inert, like the one in his room, but this one was definitely active. His mind was drawn back, however, by the faint sound of a foot brushing the stone floor, and he whirled to face that sound. He squinted his eyes against the darkness as a figure seemed to detach itself from the shadows, a white wimple the only visible marker until she came close enough for him to peer under its shadows to find a pale face. He started to step to the side, eager to avoid colliding with her, but she paused, her head turning to follow his movement.

"Forgive me, sir, but you cannot be down here. If you need anything, I can bring the prioress down, and I am sure she would be willing to grant you whatever you need from the archives," the nun suggested kindly. Her soft tone did nothing to stop the chill racing into Simon's stomach, and he glanced in a panic at his arm, finding the pearlescent sheen still upon his skin. That discovery only made his fear swell, and he reacted swiftly, slamming the butt of his staff onto the ground before him, visualizing a spellshape he had rarely used. His _Shield of Resolution_ took effect immediately, appearing as a golden barrier over and around him, the shimmering half-sphere covering him from the ground to a space not far above his head. "Stay back," he warned, feeling his previous invisibility dissipate; such magic was pointless now, he knew.

The nun did not react to his protective magic, still walking towards him. If anything, her smile only grew more pointed. "Please, sir, you are in a holy place. There is no need for violence. Just come with me, and we will give you whatever wisdom you seek."

Simon's alarm grew at her composure. He didn't want to harm this woman, but he wasn't above threatening her. With a thought, he cast a second spell, and three balls of light formed over his head, lengthening into glowing beams. His _Spears of Contempt_ hovered patiently, aimed at the woman approaching him. "I said, stay away."

At last, the nun paused, raising her head. Her violet eyes met his, and her smile bared white teeth. "Poor, poor child," she murmured, but her grin was that of a confident predator padding towards trapped prey. "You walk like a boy dressed in his father's oversized clothing, clutching that staff like it means something to you. Look how dimly your faith gleams. It is as if you know your beliefs are twisted and hollow, but still you cling to them for protection." She extended a hand, and with a shimmer of mottled red-and-purple energy an ornate sword formed in her grasp, the metal of the blade twisted upon itself like a sharp-edged figure-eight. At her other side, a similar glow presaged the appearance of a shield upon her left hand, made of the same dark metal as the blade, embossed with the shape of an owl. "Your flaccid zeal cannot protect you from true divinity."

"Back, fiend!" Simon snarled, and his barrier flared as he poured energy into it. His spears of light edged forward, like hounds pulling at their leashes. The searing light shining from his magic made the nun recoil a step as her skin rippled like a heat mirage, and a moment later her glamour faded. In place of the nun stood a woman in dark armor, still holding the sword and shield, but little similar to her previous appearance otherwise. This woman was tall and graceful, though her skin had an almost blue pallor to it. Silver hair cascaded behind her, and black-feathered wings spread out from her lower back. The armor she wore looked intended as much for seduction as protection, leaving her thighs and the upper surface of her breasts exposed, both accentuated by the sheer and crimson cloth she wore in those places. Atop her head, she wore an armored crown, decorated with red gems and dark feathers, and below that headpiece her violet eyes glowed with an internal light.

"So bold," she purred, stepping even closer, her hips swaying as she came. "You remind me of my husband, when he was younger. He was just as stubborn…" Her tongue slid across her lips. "Until I taught him the pleasure of surrendering to his true desires. My mistress will teach you the same."

"Sorry," Simon shook his head, "But I'll pass on that. Leave, or I will make you go."

The woman chuckled, raising her sword. She was close enough to press it gently against his barrier, and sparks erupted from that meeting as his magic resisted its presence. "You don't have your little cur to protect you this time, boy," she gloated, "and you don't have the spine to fight me on your own."

She barely had time to raise her shield to deflect the spear of light that had been aimed at her sword arm, and fell back as he launched a second and third attack, both lances of energy deflected into the stone walls by her shield and blade in turn. She responded just as abruptly, lunging at him, her sword singing out as it clashed against his barrier again and again. Simon grunted, pressed back, and he started to retreat before he noticed the intensity of her gaze, the victory in her eyes. The rune behind him; that was her goal. She was pushing him back intentionally.

Simon's shield wavered, and her sword nearly reached his skin before it was stopped. The woman laughed victoriously, but the sound was cut off as Simon recast his barrier, even larger this time, thrusting her back. As she staggered away from him, Simon dashed to the side, out of the way of the rune on the ground. As he stopped to face her, however, the uneven ground stole his footing, and he nearly collapsed as the earth below him groaned ominously. He had unfortunately chosen one of the warped patches to make his stand on, but he didn't have time to consider that as the woman lunged towards him once more. He slammed his staff into the ground, reforming his magical shield once more, pouring his energy into it, hoping to force her back enough to give him time to think of a way of fending her off, or escaping, or-

Battered by the erupting magic, and surrendering to the unseen ravages of time, the ground below Simon caved in. He barely had time to flail for a grip, his staff falling from his hand, before he plummeted into the cavernous opening below him, consumed by the darkness instantly. The shadows were so complete that he didn't even notice when unconsciousness claimed him, his head striking a rock as the earth's maw swallowed him.

* * *

Promachos scowled at the hole that had devoured her prey. She flexed her wings, preparing to give pursuit into the pit, but a tension in the air warned her off. Instead, she stooped, extending her sword into the hole as far as it would reach. An electric shock made her recoil with a wince, pale violet energy sparking into existence and racing up her blade and into her flesh. Her frown deepened at that as she sheathed her blade, rubbing her nerveless fingers with her other hand as she looked into the darkness of the vertical shaft. Someone had warded that area, and it would not be easy for her to win entry.

"How unexpected," murmured a voice behind the dark valkyrie, and she turned hastily, dropping to one knee and bowing her head.

"I beg your forgiveness, Mistress," the monster said with genuine regret in her voice. "My overconfidence allowed him to escape."

"Don't worry, Proma," said the other woman, proceeding into the torchlight, which revealed her black habit and white scapular. Sister Benevolence drew closer, a tight smile on her lips as she stared at the hole that had stolen away the young Inquisitor, and the fallen staff that lay at its edge. "He will resurface soon enough, have faith." She drew close enough to rest a reassuring hand on her subordinate's shoulder. "We will claim him then, and, while we are at it…" He eyes coldly lingered on the opening in the ground. "It seems we have a pest problem. A little rodent hiding in our basement, as it were."

"Shall I take care of that now, Mistress?"

Sister Benevolence shook her head, a charitable smile on her lips. "Patience. I expect it will come to surface soon enough. No, I have another mission for you." The dark valkyrie met her gaze, and the prioress extended her hand to help her servant to her feet. "I suppose this means that fanatic was right about there being a laboratory below our home, and that means he will be returning to take care of that matter. We do not need such attention drawn to us. No, he will need to be… disposed of. I pity the soul charged with such a task, but even such bitter men can be broken in Pandemonium." The valkyrie laughed at that, climbing to stand beside her mistress. "I want you to make certain he doesn't send for reinforcements. This matter ends here, in silence. Leave the priest himself to me."

The armored woman snapped to a salute, her gauntlet clashing with her breastplate. "As you command."

Sister Benevolence smiled. "Your faith is commendable. You have served me well, Promachos, and I will ask Mother that you be recalled soon enough. You have spent too long out of your husband's arms."

The valkyrie lowered her head, but her cheeks darkened. "He and I both serve, faithfully."

"And such devotion deserves to be rewarded. Stay with me a little while more, and we both will return to Pandemonium in glory." Sister Benevolence licked her lips as she stared into the darkness of the pit. "I will have so much to teach our newest convert, after all."

Together, both women turned to climb back into the monastery, waiting for their prey to emerge from the earth. They would be ready, and then the pleasure could begin.

* * *

Simon was slow to awaken, but his shivering muscles forced his consciousness to the surface, pressing him past the throbbing pain in his skull. He groaned at that ache, wondering what he had done to deserve such punishment; his head hadn't hurt like this since he drank with George. Simon leaned onto his left side, seeking Gina's warmth, but the sloshing of water was his only reply, and despite his opened eyes the world remained shrouded in darkness. A crippling wave of claustrophobia washed over him, and he flailed for contact with something aside from the water that suspended him, but found nothing above. His feet did find the floor close below the surface of the water, and he carefully stood up, finding it only as deep as his waist. He patted the water's surface as he blindly felt for his staff, realizing that the water around him was strangely thick and viscous. His hopes of reuniting with his weapon were quickly discarded, which he lamented; the staff served as a focus for his magic, and its absence would be a problem if he faced any serious threat.

Even without his staff, he was still capable enough to cast basic spells, and he focused to summon a glowing orb above his outstretched hand, a _Spark of Enlightenment_. That light was nearly as bright as a torch, but revealed very little to Simon, aside from rock walls and the pool of cerulean fluid he had fallen into. He trailed his free hand into it, watching it seep between his fingers, glimmering in the steady light; the fluid seemed oddly incandescent, as if it possessed an energy of its own. Somewhat concerned that he had been briefly submerged in this strange liquid, Simon looked for an exit. He could see, dimly through the dense water, that the floor of this pool looked to have been manmade, and ahead of him was a stone lip. He sloshed in that direction, climbing over the ledge and stepping down onto a stone-worked floor.

Free of the pool, though it still clung to his clothes and hair and dribbled down his back, Simon looked around to get his bearings. The chamber he found himself in was completely unlit, and the high ceiling and wide expanse swallowed his little light. Still, this chamber was more deliberately finished than the tomb above his head; the floors were made of fitted stone, and the walls were tightly mortared. Spread across the room were stone tables littered with cloudy beakers and every conceivable cobwebbed apparatus, though the benches before them bore a thick coat of dust. The air felt thick and musty, and it seemed likely to Simon that even mice avoided this barren chamber. Still, he felt a certain pride as he looked around the room: despite the most unlikely of circumstances, he had discovered the missing laboratory.

He explored the room, shivering still from his time in the pool, but found little of interest for his efforts. Finally, however, he came across a massive stone door that loomed over him. He reached out to press against it, hoping he could find a way out of this cavernous hall and back to the surface, albeit preferably one that didn't lead right back to the catacombs he had just unceremoniously departed. As he shoved against the door, it began to screech open as Simon overcame the clinging friction of ages of disuse at the cost of his aching shoulder. Once it had opened enough, he was able to use his hands to force it wider, slipping into the next room.

Unlike the expansive chamber he had just left, this room was reasonably sized for the library it resembled. It was also lit by a dancing fire, the broad fireplace in the back wall piled high with firewood that looked barely scorched by the flames that burned around it. The light from that fire sent shadows cavorting across the tall bookcases, which were heaped full of thick tomes with threadbare covers, but the wide table in front of the fire was lit enough for him to see the open books and papers and piled tomes scattered haphazardly atop it, intermingled with inkpots and upright quills. A massive painting displaying seven male figures had been placed above the fire, but the shadows concealed all other details from him.

More importantly, he noticed with a start, this room was not as unoccupied as the prior one. Instead, a woman stood at the table, almost concealed by a perilously-leaned pile of books. She was covered by a purple shawl with head lowered, but the arms extended before her clutched a thick book, and he noted with a thrill of unease that her skin was unnaturally pale, reminding him of the armored woman he had just battled. He thought for a moment that she may, somehow, have missed his loud entrance into the room, and glanced around for a place to retreat, but as he looked she lowered the book to the table calmly, her body turning to face him. Below that concealing cloak, her skin was uncovered, her modesty preserved only by the table and the cloth that draped over her shoulders and breasts.

As she rounded the edge of the table, walking unconcernedly towards him, he noticed with embarrassment that she was similarly unclad below her waist. He was distracted from that discovery, however, by the violet flames that burst into life around her hands and wrists as she raised her head, staring coldly towards him. Her eyes glowed with that amethyst light as she pointed one flaming hand in his direction, and he grimaced at the threat he saw in that stare.

"Well, it seems you finally found me," she stated flatly, her voice cold and emotionless. Despite her tone, her lips curled in a frigid smile, and he wished desperately that he had managed to find his staff. "It's such a shame that you won't be telling anyone about me. Well… it's a shame for you, anyways."

Unfortunately, Simon was out of ideas, and out of luck.

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:** Whew, finishing this chapter reasonably on time pressed me, I must admit. My new schedule is rather brutal, especially as I have had to plan out my lessons for two new classes basically as I walked into teaching them. Still, I have found ways to make time to write, and fortunately next week is a testing period. This is typically a boring time as I sit and watch my students take online diagnostic tests, but this time, at least, I have better ways to entertain myself. I hope to have a great deal written by next week's end, and that will make keeping my deadlines much easier moving forward._

 _Speaking of what is to come, we are moving towards the climax now - just after a new character has been reintroduced. I won't hide that this is not the only late introduction to come; one named character will only make her appearance in the final chapter, despite her overall importance to this tale. Still, it's not like this is the end of this story, right? The next work in this series, I now reveal, will be an experiment of a different kind, in which a new protagonist takes his place, but familiar faces enjoy progression of their own... but further such details will have to wait._

 _Now, I must see to the rest of my duties, and eventually I will return to the keys to begin work on the next chapter. Big things are coming, and I have much to plot. And, somewhere amidst it all, I shall find time to sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	10. Apocrypha

"Don't worry. I won't kill you. I'll just make certain you won't remember finding this place… and, possibly, anything that has happened over the past week or so. Maybe a month." The young woman walking towards Simon shrugged indifferently, as if the matter was of little consequence. "My apologies, I've not had anyone to test this magic on before, but I'm almost certain I can reasonably control its effects."

Simon flinched back as he stared at the pale young woman approaching him. He regretted that he had ever celebrated finding the laboratory hidden under the Chapel of Divine Revelation. When he had fallen into this forgotten place, an accidental result of his battle in the catacombs above, he had believed he would actually be able to use this information to distract his fanatical superior from other pursuits, but now that Simon had discovered the laboratory was occupied he doubted that would be possible. The monster striding his way was preparing a spell, violet flames growing in intensity around her hands as she drew closer, and without his staff Simon doubted he would be able to defend himself adequately. She didn't look particularly inclined towards negotiation, either, which left only escape as an option.

As Simon frantically searched for a route to flee away from her, the pale young woman's eyes narrowed, and the flames burst from her hands, arching towards Simon with grim finality. "Wait, can't we talk first?" pleaded Simon as they drew nearer, his hands futilely raised to protect his face. To his surprise, the flames paused, hanging in the air like twin burning serpents, staring directly into his fearful gaze.

"Talk?" The young woman barked a cold laugh. "Forgive me, but I have seen what happens after you 'talk' to someone. I would prefer not to be walked up to my own funeral pyre, thank you very much." Her dispassionate face showed greater emotion at that, her cheeks darkening as she glowered at him. "Your type are all the same, preaching piety and mercy while you condemn good people to death. You all stink of sanctimonious zeal and…" She paused, sniffing at the air curiously. Simon's eyes passed from the tensed flames to her expression and back again. "What is that smell, actually…?" She sniffed, louder, than stepped towards him, the flames parting to either side as she came. "Is that… monster mana? You smell like that kobold…" She froze, her jaw dropping with naked shock. "You are a _hypocrite_!"

Despite his mortal danger, Simon sighed irritably. "I am getting tired of people acting like I stink, thank you. I bathed before I came to the monastery just this morning, as a matter of fact."

The woman frowned at him in disappointment. "I mean your mana, you simpleton. Your essence is mixed with kobold mana. That means that you…" She paused, her cheeks darkening again, though he suspected it was more out of embarrassment this time. "You know what I mean."

It was Simon's turn to be shocked. "You can tell that?" He looked to the floor, rubbing his chin. "That makes a lot of sense, actually."

"This is beside the point! You are a… whatever that tabard means. You are a monster hunter."

"Well, not really, but then again, I'm not even with them anymore." Simon met the woman's gaze directly, conscious of the violet flames hanging near him, but less afraid of them. "I'm on Gina's side now."

Silence fell on the pair, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace in the background, and the hissing of the flames poised to strike at Simon's skull. The pale-skinned woman stared at him appraisingly, and his return gaze didn't waver, as he hoped his eyes could convey his honesty. Apparently they succeeded at least somewhat, because with a wave the woman dispelled her magic, and the flames flared out of existence. Still staring at him, she crossed her arms under her chest, which Simon couldn't help but notice threatened to free her breasts from the coverage of the cloak she wore. "Let us consider this: say I believe that you are what you say you are. You have betrayed your faith for a monster. Why, then, would you come searching for this place, if not at the bidding of your superiors?"

"Coming here was something of an accident, really," Simon confessed, reaching up to adjust his glasses. The woman glowered at him, so he hastened to clarify. "The Lector is searching for this place, yes, but I was looking for something else, and had a little run-in with the nuns upstairs."

"Well, if you enjoy bedding monsters so much, perhaps you should have taken them up on their offer," came the chill reply.

"'Offer' is a generous way of phrasing it," Simon groused. "But, in all honesty, I don't want to be here. If you will just show me the way out, I will go, and-"

"Lead a bunch of soldiers with torches right back to me. No thanks."

Sighing, Simon shook his head. "Listen, I have more important things to worry about than this laboratory."

"And I have a very different perspective on that."

"Fine." Simon stared directly at her. "I have something I have to do. Something more important than anything else in my life. If you have to erase my memories of this place, then so be it. I wouldn't mind a little assistance in finding what I was searching for, a certain magical spellbook, but other than that, I never want to come back to this mountain. So if wiping my memories of this laboratory is what it takes to get that book, then I will pay that price." His gaze revealed the depths of his resolution. "If she is safe, then I don't care."

Again, silence fell over them. For a second, Simon thought he saw the faintest upward twitch at the edges of her lips. "Sadly, it's not so easy as that. I told you that I am not very accustomed to my memory-altering spell. You will probably forget the entirety of the past week. Is that a price you are willing to pay?" She motioned, and the violet flames burst back into life, coiled around her wrists.

Simon's blood froze in his veins, and his heart ached from that ice. He thought of everything that had happened since he had arrived in Videre. When he had ridden here from the capitol, he had just been an Inquisitor Errant, starting his first real mission. He had actually been almost excited, enjoying his freedom from the confines of life under his teachers. But, then he had met Gina, and… everything had changed. He remembered all of the things they had shared. He remembered how they had been together the previous night, and how that had made him feel. He remembered reading to her, and meeting Mary and Charles, and his talk with George. He had become a different person in a week. Would all of that just disappear?

But Gina was in real danger. The Lector would be back any time now. Teleportation was the only way he could think of to rescue her. If he didn't, then she might be the next to take a place atop the pyre, and he would not allow that to happen, whatever the price. If it meant her life, then there was nothing he would not surrender… even his own memories of her.

Across from him, the woman watched the stricken expression on his face with a subtle smile. She hid that expression when he looked up to her with grave eyes and nodded. "If that is what it takes, then I will. Save her, and I don't care how much you have to erase, even if you take me back years."

With a wave, the flames disappeared once more. "Alright, then. Let's figure out how we can save your kobold, shall we?"

Simon gaped at her. "What? I mean- do you mean you are going to erase my memories later, or…?"

"Please close your mouth; I fear it might fall apart otherwise." She smiled openly at him, albeit an expression with a razor-edge of sarcasm. "I can think of far better uses for it than an idiot's gawp."

Simon complied, but that did little to erase the befuddlement from his face. "I am still confused."

"From the scant time I have spent with you, I would think you should be rather accustomed to that by now." The woman turned, her cloak billowing behind her, and she walked to the table nearby. Brushing aside a smear of papers, she hopped lightly onto its surface, facing him as she sat atop it. "I would be willing to remedy that, if you can offer a suitable exchange."

"If you are saying that wisdom has a price…" Simon all but growled, those oddly-familiar words pricking at his nerves.

The young woman looked distractedly to the side, considering his words. "I suppose wisdom should have a price; everything does. Still, wisdom is a rather intangible concept. I deal more in knowledge than wisdom. I hope you understand the difference?" She looked back to him, her eyebrow arched.

His shoulders slumping in relief, he nodded. "Alright, then, give me information."

She waved a finger towards him. "Ah, no, that has a price too, remember?"

"Then what do you want?" Simon asked defensively.

"I was thinking a fair exchange." She motioned about herself, indicating the dark chamber around them. "As you can guess, I don't get out much, so I know very little about current events. So, propose the following exercise: I ask you a question, you answer, and then you ask one of me – of equal importance, mind you. I respond, and we repeat, until we both have the information we desire."

"And who gets to decide what is of 'equal importance?'" Simon asked warily.

"I do, since I have the more valuable information," she replied with a smug smile. Despite his ire, Simon couldn't think of a way to rebut that. "Then we have a deal?" He nodded, his jaw set, and she smiled at his frustration. "First question, then: who are you?"

"My name is Simon. I am - well, I was - an Inquisitor Errant."

She paused at that, nodding. "A succinct answer, but I can fill in what you left out. Let me see… your accent tells me you were educated in Olympus City, but you are originally from Albion. Avalon City, perhaps. You are a magic user, talented at learning spells, but not at casting them. And you like dogs. Was I right?"

Simon's eyebrow arched. "Isn't that two questions in a row?" He smirked at her grimace. "But, you were right on most of it. You just guessed that about dogs based off of Gina, though." Her proud grin confirmed that deduction. Simon nodded to himself, seeing the second level of her game. She was showing off her intellect, and he expected she wanted him to do the same. "My turn: how do I get out of here?" She didn't reply, her lips set tightly, and he sighed irritably. "Fine. Who are you?"

The young woman nodded approvingly. "I am Sarah, and I am a lich." She said nothing further, pausing for his reply.

Simon's brain raced as she waited, her lips in a mocking smile, kicking her feet beneath her impatiently. He had to add something to what she said, but what? Even as his conscious mind struggled to think of anything to deduce, his unconscious was hard at work, patching together memories in a thin cloth as he remembered the note he had found in Gina's collar. As epiphany struck him suddenly, he realized how fragile his supposition was, but it was worth a shot. "Well, then. It's nice to meet you, Sarah Wulfe." Her eyes widened, and he smiled at her shock, his conjecture confirmed.

"How-?" She paused, but looked to the ground, frowning in frustration. "Fine, fine. How did you know that?"

"Because you are the Watcher in Shadows." She looked at him through narrowed eyes as he elaborated. "You are your family's legend. The Wulfe family helped build this, didn't they?" Simon motioned around himself, indicating the library at large. Her eyes widened, and he winced as he realized he had just wasted his question.

"Yes, they did, and even more. My family worked here, when this laboratory was in operation. My father was the chief assistant to the man that created this place for his research. The priest you so unkindly burned was a great-something-cousin of mine, and when he was a child I watched over him from the shadows as he played in the supply tunnels that lead here. He really should have burned that note, by the way."

"And the girl you helped flee this place would also have been your relative," Simon prompted, but the lich didn't take the bait, arching a brow.

"My turn. Why did you betray your faith?"

Simon winced at that, but he nodded. "Because of Gina. Because what they would do to her was wrong. I have faith," he noticed a sly smile on her face, but he met it resolutely, "but killing innocents has no place in it. And I believe that people should be judged on their deeds, not whether they were born monster or human."

"And your faith was never that strong, even before you arrived here." She smiled, but he didn't reply to her deduction either way. "Your turn."

"How did you help Lyra escape?"

The lich paused at that, considering whether the questions were equivalent, but after a moment she shrugged. "My teacher – my father's master – left this place a long time ago, a year after I became…" She motioned down at her body, and Simon looked again at her pale skin. With a blush, he noticed that the way she was sitting left her lower body exposed, pale lower lips naked to his eyes, and he glanced away hurriedly. Sarah smiled at his bashfulness. "After I perished, victim to a illness plaguing this region, he had helped my father perform the ritual to bring me back as a lich. But when my teacher departed, he left me a way to flee, a bound teleportation spell, for the possibility of things here becoming hostile. He knew that eventually the church may come searching for this place, but I wanted to stay with my father until he passed, and he refused to leave this laboratory and his life's work. Afterwards, I chose to stay, since my life was here, and since father's bones are resting with those in the catacombs above." She shrugged, kicking her feet. "I placed them into one of the empty shelves when the nuns were busy. He was a hero to me, so he deserves that honor."

"And you used that bound spell to send Lyra instead of going yourself," Simon reasoned, and she nodded.

"Before you ask, it was a one-use spell. The crystal that contained it shattered as soon as Lyra left. That was why I couldn't send your kobold as well." She shook her head as he groaned in disappointment. "My turn. Why were you in the catacombs?"

"You hadn't guessed?" he taunted, and she frowned at his hubris. "There is a library there, where they keep texts forbidden by the church. I know one of them is about teleportation. I wanted to use it to send Gina somewhere to the east, where she would be safe from the Orders."

"It's a good thing you didn't find it, then." Seeing the despair on Simon's face, the lich continued. "I have my own books on that subject, and from them I know that teleportation magic is incredibly tricky. Even beyond the fact you use the wrong kind of magic, it typically only works if you know the destination well. Just sending her 'somewhere east' would have probably ended with her fused with a tree, or in the middle of a mountain." Simon's shivering had little to do with the chill in the laboratory's library. "There are ways around that, but…" She shrugged, and Simon bit off his question before he could utter it, realizing the futility, at least during their game. "And you managed to get the attention of the nuns, and I bet they tried to capture you."

"They tried to force me onto a rune of teleportation, actually." Simon explained. The lich nodded at this, but to Simon's growing frustration, explained nothing further. Succumbing to his curiosity, even though it wasn't immediately relevant to his goal, he relinquished his question to handle that matter. "What is their story, anyways?"

"Oh, the pious priestesses upstairs?" Sarah mocked, waving a finger heavenward. "Worshipers of the Fallen God." Simon quirked an eyebrow at her, and she sighed at his ignorance. "Not to delve too deeply into history: The Fallen God was one of the deities that supported the Seven Heroes." Sarah pivoted on the table, pointing to the painting above the fireplace. "As they fought against the armies of the Dark God - sorry, I suppose Demon King is how you are taught it – the Priest's patron goddess empowered him to heal his allies. But when the Demon King created his Curse of Divine Transformation to turn all of humanity into monsters," she watched him closely, but he nodded; her version was close enough to the one he knew, "the Priest decided to create a magical barrier in order to save everyone from the Demon King's reign. The Priest's goddess gave him all the power she could, but it was too much for one human to handle, so he sacrificed his own life to complete the spell."

"I know all that, basically," Simon assured her, remembering when he had told that same story to Gina. The stuff about the Dark God was different, but the basics were all there.

"Well, what came after is what is important. The Demon King was so angered that he decided to punish those that had defied him. The human Hero was dead, but the goddess…" The lich shrugged, her face shadowed by her cowl. "He led his army to assault her temple, and he slaughtered her priests. Finally, he personally struck her down, and ripped much of her divine power from her. After that, for a while she was barely more powerful than a mortal being, and she gave in to despair. Most of her priesthood was dead, but the highest-ranking survivor took care of her. He was a young man, and as he took care of her wounds and fed her every day, she gradually grew to depend on him. She needed a reason to exist, and over time, he became her reason." Sarah reached up to tap between her breasts, indicating her stilled heart. "She came to love him as a mortal woman would, not as a goddess. When they were together as lovers, the pleasure was enough to make her forget everything: her lost power, the pain she had suffered, her shame at being discarded, even the loss of the Priest she had helped martyr himself. After a while, she wanted that feeling to last forever, so there would never be a time when she wasn't lost to that ecstasy. So, she used much of her power to make a new world for her and her followers, where they would be safe from everything, even time itself: Pandemonium."

Simon shivered as he considered that story. "Was the Demon King so powerful, that he could really defeat one of the vanished gods?"

"Ah ah, you've had your answer, and it was a long one," Sarah chided. "My turn." She paused, thinking to herself. "Why did you come to Videre, really?"

Simon sighed. "We were ordered here to… punish Father Wulfe. But that's not the real reason, I don't think. Lector Themras has been searching for this laboratory; something about an Arch-Heretic."

"I knew it was something like that when you stayed after you put the priest to the torch," she replied, the words bitter. Simon bowed his head, but something occurred to him.

"When Father Wulfe died, he just fell asleep. He didn't suffer. That was you." He looked at the girl, and she met his gaze defiantly. "You used your magic to keep him from feeling what was about to happen." Simon swallowed through a thick throat. "Thank you."

Sarah stared at him dispassionately for a long moment before nodding. "Your question."

Simon paused to pry his mind away from his grim thoughts. Trying to think, he glanced up at the painting that the lich had motioned to before, calling on the Seven Heroes for inspiration. He blinked, however, as he noticed something about the painting that struck him as odd. A moment later, he realized what was wrong. The painting showed a glorious vision of the Seven Heroes standing proudly, their features silhouetted as though a brilliant light shone upon them, their strong chins and well-muscled forms embodying their gallant defiance. He recognized each of them, except one: the smaller form of the Squire was missing, and in his place, standing beside the Martyr himself, was a man with a wide-brimmed hat and a staff. "Who is that?"

The lich turned to follow his pointing finger. "Oh, no one important," she responded wryly. "Just the Seventh Hero. The one your church found so inconvenient that they wrote him out of the histories. It's rather hard to outlaw arcane magic when one of the heroes you worship is a warlock, isn't it?" She turned back to savor the shock on his face. "Did you really think a child was one of the Seven Heroes? That was added later, after they changed a few details to suit their purposes."

"Are you saying they made up the Squire?" Simon demanded, feeling stubbornness well within himself.

"No, he was real. He just wasn't a hero. He was just some orphan they picked up along the way." She spread her hands helplessly. "The church apparently liked him better than the person that helped them make their hateful barriers."

The resentment in her voice caused new gears to turn in Simon's head, and he remembered things that the Lector had told him, as well as a conversation with Sister Benevolence. "The Arch-Heretic… the one that made this lab. That was him. Your teacher, the man that worked here, was one of the Seven Heroes. Is that what you are saying?"

"Well, perhaps you aren't as dumb as that haircut makes you look," Sarah purred, and Simon glowered at her. He was getting rather irritated with those critiques, also. "Correct." She pointed across the room, to a thickly-padded chair. Leaning against it was a long wooden staff, whose head zigzagged back and forth like a lightning bolt. "That is his staff. He left me here a long time ago, when he went to discuss the barriers with the man he was working with. I haven't heard from him since. It was afterwards that he was written out of history." She looked to the ground, regret faintly visible on her features. "It's been quite a few decades since I saw him last, but I believe he is still alive." Simon didn't interrupt her introspection, lost in his own consideration of what she had said. He was still struggling to believe her. "Ah, but it is my turn. So, say you manage to spirit your kobold lover out of here. What then?"

Simon didn't hesitate. "Then I look for a way to leave and find her again."

Sarah blinked at this. "You would leave everything behind for her?"

"I have very little to lose. The only people I care for are here in Videre, and some of them would be safer if they were far from me. I won't ask them to come with me, but I will protect them, too." Simon stared at the lich calmly, and she favored him with a slight smile.

"Impressive. You are more bullheaded than I would have thought from that cringing display earlier." She motioned over to where he had been standing when she had nearly erased his memories. He didn't respond to the teasing, waiting for her to stop chuckling. "But you don't work well with details, I notice. You haven't even asked about the liquid you apparently took a bath in."

Simon started at that, and he glanced down at himself. He brushed his arm with a hand, and a dusty residue fell from his skin, sparkling in the firelight. "Oh, was that stuff dangerous?" he asked, alarmed.

The lich laughed. "No, it's just leyfluid. Worldsblood, terrestrial mana, whatever you want to call it. It runs beneath the ground, seeping up in places. It contains magical energy, so a lot of important places tend to be built wherever it comes to the surface. The temples of the gods, for example, or…" She motioned up towards the monastery, then to the laboratory around them. "It crystallizes, and can be used as a power source for spells. This lab was built to see if that energy could be used to power barriers that would keep monsters from infiltrating human cities. Unfortunately, these days most the energy that is brought here by the leyfluid is siphoned off; partially from the wards I have around the lab, but also by the priestesses upstairs. That's the other problem with your little plan: teleportation magic takes a lot of energy, more than either of us have, most likely." She sniffed at the air quietly. "Well, I know I don't, and you wouldn't be able to cast it anyways. You don't know how to use arcane magic."

"Could you teach me?"

"It's my turn-"

"Enough." The lich drew herself up at his interruption, but he sighed, shaking his head. "I apologize, but I need to think a way to save Gina, and soon. If you know of a way, then I will do whatever it takes. I will do whatever you ask of me. But she is in danger the longer I stay here, and I can't risk her to sate my curiosity. If you don't know of a way, then I need to go."

The lich regarded him silently, but she dropped from the table onto her feet. Drawing nearer, she stared up into his eyes; for the first time, he noticed she was nearly a head shorter than him. "It's not that easy," she warned him. "You know 'magic,' but not arcane magic. What you use is very different."

"Could I learn?"

"That's… that's like asking if a bird could learn to swim. Maybe! But…" Sarah exhaled irritably. "Listen, magic is different depending on the source of energy. Ley energy is almost universal, but monster mana and human essence are very different, as is divine energy."

"And I use essence? Or divine energy?" Simon hazarded.

"No. Well, yes, but…" The lich reached up to rub her forehead, and Simon was momentarily distracted as her cloak shifted enough to reveal one pale breast. Looking away, he forced himself to focus on her reply. "Before, in the days of the Seven Heroes, many humans were mages, or priests. Mages used their own essence, along with latent energy that is in the air, which is basically dissolved ley energy. But priests used divine energy in a kind of symbiotic relationship: they devoted their essence to the gods through rituals and prayer, and when they called upon miracles, the gods would grant them their energy."

"Alright, so…"

"So you churchies do neither of those things, and both. You don't have a god. But your energy is different somehow, changed by your faith to something…" She smacked her lips, as if tasting something unpleasant. "I've taken to calling it 'zeal.' It's faith magic, not divine, and it feels… bad. I would love to study it further, but we don't really have the time for that now."

"Help me save Gina, then, and I will let you experiment on me however you want," Simon promised heedlessly, and the lich looked to him eagerly. "But what you are saying is that I can't use arcane magic, because my energy is this 'zeal?'"

"Well…" Sarah seemed suddenly unsure. "Maybe not. You don't smell so bad, really. I could smell the stink of it from that one man all the way from the cliffs, but you smell… nice." She stepped closer, sniffing at his chest. "Under all the dried leyfluid, anyways." Simon was reminded of the way Gina would sniff him as the lich pressed against him. "Somewhat… warm…"

"Ah, well," Simon interrupted, and she stepped back, her cheeks darkening. "I keep getting told my faith is weak. Does that mean I may have more of that essence you mentioned?"

Blinking, she nodded. "That would explain a lot, actually. At the least, we can see." She pivoted, walking briskly toward one of the towering bookcases. She pulled from it a thick tome, and brought it back to the table. As she flipped it open, Simon saw that the yellowed pages were often consumed by large illustrations of arcane runes. "What do you feel when you look at these?" Sarah asked cautiously, pointing to one spell in particular.

"That's…" Simon paused, frowning. "That's almost the spellshape for _Light of Faith_."

"Well, _Brighten_ is the name we use." She turned the page. "This one?"

"Is that _Shield of Resolution_?"

" _Spellshield_. Are all of your spells so… pompously named?"

Simon ignored her question, turning the pages. He recognized each of the spells he knew, though the circles were significantly different in small ways. He frowned as he considered that. Was it because they drew on different energy? Choosing a page that featured a spellshape that was strongly reminiscent of _Spark of Enlightenment_ , he decided to test his theory. He stared at the rune before him, memorizing it as best he could, before closing his eyes. He held his hand out and focused, and then opened his eyes again. To his amazement, a small orb was glowing in the palm of his hand, beaming with a clear blue light. He couldn't help but laugh at that achievement, staring into the light with a childish glee. Casting the spell had felt natural to him, certainly easier than the _Spark of Enlightenment_ he had cast earlier.

"Well… it seems like you have something of a talent for this, after all," Sarah mused, begrudging admiration clear in her voice. She looked at him appraisingly. "I suppose a little looking over these texts wouldn't hurt. Perhaps we will find a potential solution for your problem."

Simon nodded, still looking at the light in his hand. It felt to him like a new hope, and he was slow to dismiss it. Finally, he turned back to the book in front of him. He felt certain they would be able to find a way to send Gina somewhere safe from this, and then he could go and retrieve her from the inn. Somehow, despite everything that had happened over the past hours, he now had a way forward, and maybe, just maybe, his faith that everything would work out might yet be rewarded. Smiling, he looked down at the text in front of him.

"Let's get to work, then."

* * *

When the last of the inn's regulars staggered towards the door, Charles Kramer allowed himself to slump against the bar as he wiped one of the final dirty mugs with his moistened rag. Today had been a busy day; the rains the past couple of days had slowed travel, but now that the skies were clearing people were streaming through Videre once more, making up for lost time. He had barely had a chance to think after the lunchtime crowd had arrived, and his rooms were all but full now.

The talk of the day had been the howling from the previous night. Everyone had their own theories, despite Charles's insistences that it had been a dog that one of his guests had snuck into their room. That excuse was wearing thin; most of the people said that such was the cry of no mere dog, and that it must have had a supernatural origin. Many of the townsfolk whispered that it had been the granddaughter of Old Man Wulfe, come back to avenge the kindly priest. Others said that it was the cry of a hellhound, hunting for men to devour in the dark forests just outside. Yet others claimed it was the spirits of the damned, coming to punish the sinners of Videre for something-or-other, some crime up to the biases of the speaker typically.

Charles was glad, at least, not to have heard the word 'kobold' bandied about, but he still dreaded what would happen when that Lector returned to Videre. That priest had the eyes of a demon, the sort of man that would rather see the world burn than deal with the reality of human imperfection. Charles had served as a mercenary long enough to have seen the very best and worst of human nature, and he didn't shy away from it, but men like that priest were too frail in spirit to deal with a world they couldn't handle to their liking.

"I'm almost done in here, Pa. Have you seen Simon come in? He's not had his supper yet," chimed his daughter's voice from inside the kitchen.

"No, I've not seen him yet," shouted Charles back to her, replacing the mug and taking up another like it. "You could check his room, if you like." He shook his head at that, wondering when he'd gotten so tolerant as to let his little girl go alone in a boy's room, especially one he knew she was sweet on. Simon was a good enough sort, he'd decided, but he knew young men of that age thought more with one head than the other. Still, Mary had been in a mood all day, ever since she went up to his room to fetch laundry, and Charles hoped a little chat with the boy would be enough to have her skipping again. He glanced out one of the windows in the common room, noting how dark it was getting outside. It was odd for the boy to be gone this long, if he'd indeed not returned yet.

A creaking on the stairwell presaged one of the guests coming down, and Charles turned to watch them round the edge of the stairwell. To his surprise, the figure was cloaked, and almost covered head to foot; booted, gloved, scarved, and dressed in an oversized shirt and pants that looked familiar. The absurd character made their way silently towards Charles, bumping into the tables, and despite himself Charles found himself reaching under the table for the polished cudgel he kept there. It'd spent the past years beating rowdy drunks out of the inn, but back in its day Charles had stoved in more than a few brigand's skulls with it.

As the wobbling shape came closer, however, Charles recognized the wide brown eyes between the scarf and the cloak, and his expression turned to shock. He looked around hurriedly, searching for anyone that could see them, and darted around the bar to take her by the arm. He hastily pressed her into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. "What are you thinking, coming out of the room?" he demanded, trying his best to temper his concern as not to scare the girl.

She didn't reply at first, reaching up to pull the cloak off over her fluffy years. Sucking in unfiltered air as she pulled away the concealing scarf, Gina whined as she looked at Charles, her eyes wet with liquid worry. She glanced around the kitchen, quickly spotting the bundle of books Simon had brought to him earlier that day. She pointed at the stack and whined again, looking directly at Charles with pleading eyes.

"Gina! What are you doing down here?" asked Mary, her voice raised, coming around a table towards the shrouded kobold. Gina motioned again towards the books, and Mary's eyes grew like saucers. "Simon? Where is he? Has he not come in yet?" She turned towards Charles. "Pa, you've not seen him either? He was going to the monastery. Do you think-"

"I think nothing; I know we need to be calm and reasonable about this," Charles rumbled, motioning gently with his hands in an attempt to calm both of the girls. "He may have found what he was looking for, or have had a hard time getting inside, or any number of things. Don't put the boy in trouble he may not have earned yet."

"But, Pa, if he's in trouble, then we don't know where they may take him. Just like all of those missing pilgrims, he could just disappear. We have to do something," Mary pleaded. Gina, meanwhile, had moved to the stack of books, cradling them in her arms and sniffing quietly, as if desperate to be reminded of Simon once more.

"Listen, girls, we can't just go to the monastery. We'll be of no help to anyone if we get caught too. They might-"

Charles froze as he heard the door swing open behind him. Swallowing nervously, he saw both girls standing there, paralyzed in fear, as they stared behind him at the opened door. Charles felt an urge to scoop them both up and run for the rear door, but he forced himself to turn to look behind him. "Do go on, Mr. Kramer. You were saying something about the monastery, I believe? The truth of your iniquity is revealed at last."

Standing in the doorway leading into the inn's common room was Lector Themras, and behind him stood the young Purifier and two of the mercenaries.

Charles turned, trying to shield the girls from view with his body, though he knew it was far too late. "Listen, Lector, there's something going on in that monastery. They are the ones behind-" His voice died as he froze in place. His body refused to listen to his mind's commands, save for his eyes, which managed at least to turn downwards to see the glowing chains wrapped around him, binding him in place. He fought to speak, but could only utter choked groans, and the sounds he heard from behind him suggested the two girls were suffering the same fate.

"No more lies, Mr. Kramer. You have deceived us long enough with your false claims of innocence. The creature behind you tells me everything I need to know." Lector Themras stepped closer, his eyes burning into Charles's. "But you will have a chance to confess your sins soon enough. And then you will face judgment."

"Where is Simon?" burst the young man behind the priest. George stepped into the room, his face displaying naked concern. "Have you done something to him? Mary, I thought you liked him; how could you do this?"

"We shall search for Inquisitor Hopkins in time," the Lector chided George softly. "They will confess what they have done with him, even if it takes persuasion. And if they have poisoned his mind…" Themras smiled, and Charles shivered as he looked into the darkness in his eyes. "We will do what it takes to set things right."

"I'm going to go check on Simon," George said, turning away from the group.

Scowling, the Lector pivoted to face him. "No, stay here. We need to take these heretics to-"

The growling sound had started so low that Charles had barely been able to hear it, but as the Lector turned, distracted, it swelled in volume. Charles felt a strange power behind him, and from the corner of his vision he could see an amber glow. By the time the priest turned back, outraged staining his face crimson, it was too late.

The shattering sound echoed through the small kitchen, and glowing shards of ethereal chain flew past Charles. The innkeeper could hear harried footsteps as glowing spears of light formed over the Lector's head and darted forward. Apparently his aim was poor, as Charles could hear the kitchen's rear door swing open, and the chill evening air gusted in. "Take her!" Themras snarled, and George and the mercenaries rushed past the two remaining captives, their hands racing for their weapons.

The stampede of armed men passed into the night, and Charles and his daughter were left alone with Lector Themras. The priest spent a moment collecting himself, and despite his straining efforts, in spite of all of his strength, Charles soon found he couldn't replicate the feat the kobold had just managed. He settled for glaring at the priest, wishing he could free himself for just a minute. That was all it would take to squeeze the hateful little man's head off, he wagered.

"Well, since my helpers are busy recapturing that beast, we will have to go about things a little differently." Lector Themras offered Charles a wan smile. "I know that even evil men like you have your… weaknesses." He glanced past Charles to Mary, and the innkeeper's rage was enough to allow him to shake slightly against his chains. "A little cleansing flame would have loosened your tongue, and may have taught your daughter the price of consorting with monsters. But your purification will have to wait for now, I'm afraid." He lifted his crozier slightly, and the head of the staff began to shine with an inner incandescence. "I will have to use less subtle methods to get the information I need. This spell is a bit too draining to use frequently, but, since I know you are some of the heretics I have sought, I cannot afford to spare it now."

The magic building in the staff exploded into a dazzling brilliance, and Charles felt himself consumed by that light. He knew nothing more.

* * *

George panted as he sprinted through the forest. He could still see the shadowed silhouette of the monster ahead of him, but she was incredibly swift, and it was all he could do to keep her within sight. She was encumbered slightly, carrying a bundle of familiar books, but that knowledge drove George on even more, fury inspiring his heart to pound harder, his lungs to work like bellows.

His pursuit was hindered slightly by his wandering mind. He cursed himself for not finding this beast earlier; he had discovered her tracks that morning, and had followed them through the forest. He had traced them back to the inn eventually, and when Lector Themras had returned from his excursion to the west, he had informed his superior of that fact. That had been what had inspired the Lector to investigate personally, and then they had stumbled across the innkeeper and Mary meeting with this creature.

Concern for Simon pressed the Purifier to greater feats of athleticism. He feared that his friend had been captured by these monster-worshipers, and he shuddered to think what they may have done to him. The Lector would force the truth from the two at the inn, but now it fell to George to bring down the beast before it could harm anyone else. With that in mind, he reached behind him to pull his bow from its straps, and he reached back to draw an arrow from his quiver, nocking it with fluid grace even as he vaulted over roots and burst through underbrush.

He could hear the mercenaries behind him, somewhere in the distance. They were hardly prepared for a nighttime sprint through the forest, and he could hear them struggling to make up lost ground, but George knew they would be of little use until the monster was slowed somehow. They would be able to help him capture the beast if he wounded it, he knew, but that would only be necessary if he missed. With his kidnapped friend on his mind, he was determined to shoot to kill.

The kobold ran in a straight line for just a moment, but that was all George needed. Smoothly, he raised his bow, and with a moment's thought poured his faith into his arrow. The shaft glowed with golden light as it pierced through the night – only to punch into the bark of a tree as the kobold darted to the side. George cursed as he reached back for another arrow, waiting for another chance.

The night around him grew darker as George realized they were drawing nearer to the mountain. He snarled as he deciphered her plan: that morning, during his hunt, he had followed her tracks to an odd cave in the mountainside, before tracing her trail to the inn. She was making for that same cave, he suspected, and with that in mind he forced himself onward with greater desperation. They were close now, and he could not let her escape.

Another arrow whistled through the air, but it sank into the ground as she sprinted up a hill. He drew and nocked again, pausing to aim. For a moment, she was perfectly framed, an opening in the forest's canopy leaving her lit by cold moonlight, and he felt a surge of victory as he led his target. Perhaps realizing the end was upon her, the monster glanced back to him, and he could see the fear in her wide eyes, the desperation to live. He met that gaze, his heart pounding, and let his arrow slip.

The shot went wide.

She was gone, and, growling at his weakness, George took off after her. That moment's head start allowed her to escape his vision, but he knew where she was going now. Moments later, he staggered, panting, into the cave that he had found that morning, looking frantically around the craggy walls. To his dismay, the shallow grotto was empty, but he knew she had come in here. Somehow, she had escaped, even though the cave came to a dead-end a few feet inside.

Furious and frustrated, George punched the wall before him. To his surprise, the stone replied with a hollow thud, and he stepped back in surprise, blinking as he glanced from his hand to the wall and back. His heart raced as he began to realize what he had just accidentally discovered, and he desperately scrabbled at the wall, searching for a hidden latch or switch. His cursory search didn't uncover anything, but the shadows of the cave obstructed his vision, and he stepped back with a resolute frown. He knew the wall concealed a hidden passage, and he would find a way to open it.

But, first, he would summon the mercenaries, and they would go with him. If this path led to a monster's den, he didn't know how many beasts might be inside. Together, they could confront the monsters, and with their torches it would be easier for him to find the entrance anyways. George secured his bow, and instead slid his sword from its scabbard, glaring at the shadowed wall before him.

"Don't worry, Simon," the Purifier promised the empty air. "I'm coming to save you."

* * *

 _ **Author's Note:**_ _Well, I had not expected to be posting a chapter this early. After last week's rather chaotic schedule, I was bracing for grudging progress over the next few weeks, but I managed to throw myself at the keys on Sunday, and succeeded in writing over 18 pages on that day alone. With so much achieved, I knew that I would be better off holding this chapter back in case next week is just as busy as last, but… I have no impulse control, so here we are._

 _Another way of looking at this is that I am posting a chapter to celebrate a personal holiday. January 14_ _th_ _is my Writing Day, in celebration of the day 19 years ago when I started my first fanfiction (God, I'm old). Typically, I take the day off work, sit down with a nice Pepsi float, and write my heart out. Yesterday, however, I didn't have that option, with a wave of standardized testing going on and a trio of ballgames after school. That didn't stop me from nearly finishing this chapter, however, so I can at least enjoy that achievement._

 _As for this story itself: the action is building toward the ending, as I've noted, but there are some twists and turns yet to come. I am still planning out the chapters ahead (There is a lot of action in upcoming scenes I need to figure out), but I would say that there are at least five chapters ahead, maybe six. By now, much of the mystery is being revealed, but only the most attentive will have made a certain connection to the previous story…_

 _For now, though, I must work extra hard if I want to have the next chapter done in time for my usual deadline on Friday. I embrace the challenge, but I am also always grateful for the comments you all leave me. Thank you for reading, and I shall hope to return soon!_

 _Perhaps, in time, I will even remember to sleep…._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	11. Relic

Simon groaned in pain as he slumped against the wall. His legs trembled, and his lungs were on fire. His vision swam as he blinked into the dim light ahead of him, trying to force himself to stay upright despite the agony, the searing pain that reached all the way into his bones. He didn't know how much more of this torture he could stand.

"How many of these stairs can there be?"

He glared up at the stairs above him, zigging and zagging back and forth in tight turns. So had it been ever since he had left the lich's library, taking this vertical shaft straight to one of the only escape routes that led out from the laboratory. As he rested, trying to ignore the shooting pain from his thighs, he remembered the conversation that the two of them had shared before he had begun his ascension:

 _"Gah!" Simon shouted, leaning forward to plant his face into the musty open spellbook before him. "None of this is useful at all!"_

 _"Did you think that this was going to be easy?" Sarah demanded incredulously, rolling her violet eyes as she scanned over the manuscript before her. "I've lived- well, been- here for the better part of a century, and I don't remember seeing any way to teleport someone to a place that neither of you have been to before. Summoning spells, sure, and short-range translocation, but nothing like blindly hopping leagues." She sighed, placing the papers down and taking up the next in the stack she had freed from her bookcases. "And anyways, we will find it sooner if you complain less and read more, especially since you are distracting me, too."_

 _"Well, excuse me," Simon mumbled, trying to resume his reading through swimming eyes and pounding temples. His frustration only grew by the moment. "While I'm doing this, Gina is in danger. I can't just leave her there."_

 _"It's not like you have many other options. Unfortunately, even if you wanted to bring her here, most of your ways out of the lab are through hostile territory."_

 _Simon glanced up at the lich, concerned. "What do you mean?"_

 _Sarah didn't look up from the papers she was scanning. "Well, there are three ways that lead outside. Two are through the room you came in before, and one of those leads right back into the catacombs that you just fell out of."_

 _"Well, I'll pass on that one."_

 _"The other is the service tunnels, but I have scrying spells that watch the entrance, and they showed me enough to think that way is being monitored. This morning, one of the other churchies was nosing around there, following your kobold's tracks from yesterday." Sarah sighed irritably. "She took refuge from the rain in the cave that hides the entrance to the tunnels, but she managed to inadvertently lead them right to my home. I'm getting rather tired of your hound leaving messes on my doorstep."_

 _"Why do I feel like you include me in that description?" Simon asked, glancing over to see the smarmy smile on the lich's face. He suspected that the person she had seen had been George; he should have thought that his friend might find Gina's tracks, but that only increased his urgency to rescue her from the inn. "And what's the third way out? The path to the cliffs?"_

 _"Unless you can fly, no; there's no way down from there." She pointed to one of the doors leading out of the library. "I merely use it to go out every now and then for fresh air and a little sun." He glanced at her translucently-pale skin, but wisely kept his mouth shut. "No, the third way is up, into a sealed chamber in the monastery proper. They keep it locked since it is important to them, and it's placed behind the office of one of their leaders. My teacher had that way installed when he had this laboratory built, since he had the room filled with mementos from one of his friends, and he would occasionally go there to meditate."_

 _Simon started at that. He knew she meant the Priest's chamber, off from the abbot's office where he had been during Themras's interview with Sister Benevolence. He remembered the locked door behind the prioress, and knew that was the chamber Sarah was referring to. To think, one of his only means of escape might be through the place he had wanted to see most, the shrine of his personal hero…_

 _"But, on the other hand, even if you went that way, you would still have to go through the monastery itself, and after your escape earlier they will be watching for you."_

 _"But they will expect me to come through the catacombs," Simon insisted, feeling a surge of excitement. His gut feeling was that this route could work, especially since he had managed to sneak into the monastery easily enough that afternoon. "If I can just get through the nave, I will be fine. I can use_ Blindness of _\- err,_ Invisibility _to sneak past the nuns and be gone before they realize I came another way."_

 _Sarah looked at him dubiously, shaking her head. "You are entirely too foolhardy. What if they catch you?"_

 _"They won't." Simon's reassurance was meant as much for himself as for her, because this was the only way he could see would allow him to reach Gina's side quickly. Outside, it had to be nearing evening, and he knew that it was possible George or the Lector might come looking for him, and grow suspicious if he didn't return from the monastery. Keeping them both far away from his room, and Gina, was imperative._

 _"Fine, then, get yourself kidnapped and sent to a sex dimension for all I care," Sarah huffed, rolling her eyes. She pointed behind her to one of the doors leading out of the library. "If you manage to make it out, your kobold knows the way through the tunnels; you can follow that route to come back to continue our search when you think it safe enough. Just don't bring the rest of your little fire-happy friends, please?"_

 _"I promise," Simon smiled. "Even though it would nice to see you pick on someone else for once."_

 _She didn't met his gaze, looking aside with a sharply-sweet smile. "Oh, no, you're plenty enough to keep me busy; I wouldn't have time for anyone else." Feigning distraction, she turned her gaze back to the tome before her. "Hurry back before I get bored and come up with new research concepts in need of a live subject." Her feral grin was threat enough to send him striding for the door._

Gathering his resolve, Simon resumed his climb. It was impossible to tell, but he believed he had already surpassed the catacombs and reached the lower level of the cathedral, so his destination on the upper level could not be far, or so he hoped. He briefly envied those in the other Orders, whose training tended to be more physical than mental. Alternatively, he wondered, had he overlooked a levitation spell during his research? Distracting himself from his wailing leg muscles with those thoughts, he pressed on, going round and round, back and forth, in the darkness of the stairwell.

At long last, he arrived at a landing. The stairs here ended at that platform, which itself merely stood before a blank stone wall. Catching his breath, Simon leaned against that wall for a moment before beginning to run his hands over it, searching for a trigger or catch. He found it in a shallow depression at waist height, and as he toggled it he heard a mechanism inside the stone activate, and he quickly realized that he could now swing the wall itself towards himself. He slipped past it, glancing down at the latch and examining the other side of the wall for the matching trigger, aware that he may be forced to return this way quickly if things went poorly in the monastery's other chambers. Satisfied he could return, he continued on into the next room, pulling the wall-turned-door closed behind him.

The room he found himself in was a small office, bereft of windows and smelling of dust and stale air. The light from his _Glow_ spell was enough to reveal the entirety of the chamber, which had more of a feel of a forgotten closet that a religious shrine, but immediately Simon felt a peace settle over him, and he gave only a glance to the sealed door at the other end of the room, knowing he would have to move on soon, but too curious to leave just yet.

Much of the office was taken up by bookcases, although a small closet interrupted them, its doors open to reveal a collection of drab priestly robes, along with a single black cloak. Across from these stood a small desk, which bore a smattering of papers and books. Feeling excited and terrified beyond breathing by the knowledge of who all of these items had originally belonged to, Simon's curiosity howled at him until he stepped closer to the desk, and with trembling fingers he reached out to touch one of the books laying there. When a bolt from the heavens failed to appear and strike him down for this trespass on sacred ground, he grew bolder, picking the book up and brushing the dust from the cover. Underneath that thick gray coat, he found a leather-bound tome with an owl embossed on the cover, and he looked at the shape with conflicted feelings, reflecting on everything that Sarah had told him about the Fallen God. Still, he opened the book, and found it full of psalms and hymns, all devoted to the goddess of wisdom. His eyes alighted on a particular line, and a chill ran up his spine as he read the name it was praising. Nodding to himself, he closed the hymnal and replaced it on the desk where he had found it.

He glanced up, noticing a painting above the desk. The artwork was framed, but looked unfinished, with a wide stretch of white canvas at the bottom. Simon knew enough about art to know this was the creation of no master, but it did have a certain warm talent to it, a fond softness to the figures it depicted that made it instantly appealing. The art featured a vague background, a smattering of trees under a clear blue sky, but detailed in the foreground were a group of young men, each of them smiling and looking forward as if joking with the painter, all formality absent from their stances as they waited to be preserved for history by this image.

On the far left stood a hulking young man with brown hair and a scruffy, thick chin that made the rest of his features look small in comparison. He had his bulky arms crossed in front of his chest, and the top edge of a shield peeked over his wide shoulders. He smiled brightly at the timelost painter, brown eyes narrowed against the gleaming sunlight. Leaning against him casually was a second youth, this one shorter, with a swarthy complexion and a hooked nose over a mustache only an adolescent could be proud of. He wore dark leathers and a cap over his black hair, and his smile was the widest of them all, his eyes twinkling eternally. His hands rested on the hilts of sheathed daggers belted to his waist, but he stood with one leg crossed in front of the other, his weight supported by the pillar-like youth beside him.

Further to the right and behind the pair proudly stood a tall, slim youth with a vibrant green cloak thrown over his shoulders. He had long blond hair cascading down his back, and his features were sharp and delicate, almost feminine, with high cheekbones, ears that almost came to a point, and almond-shaped eyes that gleamed with emerald pigment. He had a bow in his hands, and he wore a slight smile, though his gaze was turned slightly to the side, aimed at another pair of the young men. Next to him and in the middle of the group stood a slender youth that held a spear upright beside him. This young man had curly blond hair and piercing blue eyes, and a sharp nose over his challenging smile. His tunic left his arms bared, and he wore sandals that were laced high up his calf.

Next stood another young man, tall and well-muscled, with his brown hair pushed back and up by a leather headband. He stood confidently, beaming out of the painting, but his smile was no less warm for his surety. He had a scabbard belted to his back, the strap running diagonally across his chest, but the hilt of his blade was hidden by the wide-brimmed hat of the young man that was leaning against him, his arm thrown jauntily over the swordsman's shoulders. The youth in the hat wore a dark robe, but the lopsided smile on his face was bright, and over the prominent nose his brown eyes shone with life. He held a wooden staff at his side, and it ended in a familiar zigzagged shape.

The last young man, standing only slightly apart from the others, was rather short, and looked decidedly undeveloped in comparison to the others. His blond hair hung low over his eyes in a bowl cut, which made Simon wince sympathetically as he acknowledged how awkward it looked, and his shy smile and bright eyes made him look kind and eager. He clutched to his robes a leather-bound book, and behind his hands the shape of an owl was visible.

Simon stared at that final figure for a long minute, his pulse pounding in his head. He knew who these young men were, or at least who they would become. This painting was nothing like the featureless statues he had come to associate with them, or even the heroic forms in the painting in the library; these were just seven boys younger than himself, probably at the very beginning of the journey that would change history, before anyone knew that they were special. "You were right, Mary," he finally murmured, still staring in awe at the painting before him. "They were human. They were so incredibly human."

His eyes fell to the bottom of the painting, where a small looping signature proclaimed the painter as 'Norelle.' Further down, in the white of the canvas, seven signatures were arranged below the figures in the painting, each in a different hand: _Theodric the Bold. Christophe Sutton. Percival Ford. Alex Williams. Adam Milton. John Foster. Paul Bernard._ These words seared themselves into Simon's mind like brands, and he found himself reading over the signatures again and again.

Overwhelmed, he leaned forward to get closer, but his hand fell unevenly on a book on the desk in front of him, and he pulled back, looking at it. Unlike the hymnal from before, this was a slim journal, the cloth cover darkened by sweat and frayed at the edges. His eyes widening in wonder, Simon delicately plucked the book from the desk, opening the clasp with his breath locked in his lungs. The writing inside matched that of the final signature, and despite himself Simon found himself reading, flipping from page to page.

 _…Alex is injured, again, all because he charged in before Adam could get into position…_

 _….Theo is still looking for his sun medallion. I am tempted to tell him Christophe took it while he was bathing, but I know that will just mean that something of mine turns up missing for a while…_

 _…John has a new theory about the difference between monster magic and his own. He also won't stop talking about it. John always has new theories…_

Simon paused on one particular page. The writing there seemed darker, coarser, as if deep emotion had gripped its author.

 _They say this time is different from the rest, worse. They say that's why the gods chose to bless seven of us this time. They say that the other gods were too afraid to give their blessings to heroes of their own, but that we will be enough._

 _They say that the Dark God himself, the one that made the previous Overlords, leads the monsters this time. They say he has awoken the dragons from their slumber, and creates new creatures to wipe out everyone that stands against him. They say he is unbeatable, that no mere mortal could resist his powers._

 _They say that this is supposed to be the final battle. They say this time, either we win, or humanity loses. They say we could save the whole world, or that this could be the time that humanity is wiped out completely. They say even the gods are afraid._

 _I hope they're wrong, but I feel that they are right. May the gods protect us all._

Simon flipped on, but paused as a familiar phrase caught his eyes, and he turned back to that page hurriedly, quickly devouring its contents.

 _Wisdom has a price, and that price is pain. I know this when I look at the people around me, people who have lost so much, and have been changed by it. Grief writes wisdom deep into us, so deep that we can never forget. I see it when Adam and John talk about the village they grew up in, lost to the Dark God's armies before I ever met them. I hear it when Christophe speaks about sweet, kind Norelle. I find it on the faces of the refugees we try to help, and those we are too late to save._

 _I know all of this suffering has a purpose, and that purpose is to help us end suffering. We learn from pain to avoid pain, and we pass our wisdom on so others will do the same. Everything we endure is for a better tomorrow; if not for us, then for those we love._

 _I am a healer. That is all I can do. I can't throw fireballs like John, or cleave boulders in half like Adam, or fend off blows like Theo. But I wasn't there to heal Norelle when the sickness took her. I can't be there for so many people we find, when we are too late… I can't heal them all. What, oh merciful goddess, am I to learn from all of this? From those who are gone, who I cannot heal? They carry on no wisdom, so it falls to me to bring it with me. But what am I to learn, except that pain is everywhere, and that war will only come again and again?_

 _What wisdom comes from the pain I feel at failing them?_

His throat tight, Simon lowered the book, his chest aching as he imagined himself in the Priest's - no, Paul's - place. He could feel the helplessness, the fatigue, hanging on those words. And, for all the heroes had done… it hadn't ended with them. Monsters and men were still at war. The killing continued. Maybe it always would.

Refusing to set the book down just yet, Simon flipped onward, seeking out the ending. The journal only contained writing three-quarters of the way to its rear cover, and a cloth bookmark was pressed into the final inked page. Bracing himself for what was to come, Simon sat down in the dusty chair in front of the desk, his arcane light hanging over the book in his hands.

 _I finally understand._

 _For a while, I despaired. The Dark God's new magic is truly terrible. I watched as people turned into vicious beasts right in front of my eyes. I watched soldiers get torn apart by their fellows, now twisted monsters full of rage. If not for John's magic blowing those dark mists away from us, I might have changed just like that. Maybe that is what the Dark God wanted._

 _But I see how to stop it. The old legends tell of a hero who sacrificed himself to make a magical wall to keep the monsters back. I could never manage something so impressive, but I think I know of a way to keep that magic from spreading, at least. If I could do that, then we might just have a chance to regroup, and then maybe Adam's infiltration plan will finally work._

 _If I fail, then the winds will carry those dark mists to the west, towards cities full of people living their lives. They would all change, become slaves to the Dark God, turn on their families and their friends and their lovers. Everything we've done, everything we've sacrificed, would have been for nothing._

 _I can't fail. I choose not to. I know this is my purpose, and I pray that my goddess will help me achieve this. Whatever it costs me, I will pay it, if it can end the suffering._

 _I miss my old chapel, full of moldy old books and half-broken pews. I miss the priests there, even drunk Father Barolo. I miss the days when all I had to do was read, and fetch supplies from the town below, and sweep – always sweep. But I was chosen as a hero for a reason, and this is it, I know. I will trust my goddess's wisdom. Whatever happens, whatever I have to do, I will be happy to make a real difference._

 _I just wish I could see that mountain one more time._

Simon closed the book, his breath ragged. Minutes passed as he stared off into the darkness, his mind whirling, before he could finally move once more. He started to replace the book on the desk, but froze halfway there, his mind rebelling at the notion. What good was this wisdom, locked away in a room to decay? Which was better: preserving the Priest's relics, or bringing Paul's words into the light so they could help someone else? Simon made his own decision, and he slid the journal into one of his pockets as he stood from the chair, a new determination burning within him.

A moment later, the chain binding the door shut rattled to the floor. Simon stepped out of the darkened chamber into the abbot's office, his jaw set as he strode into the room, dismissing his lighting spell with a wave. With a thought, he cast another spell and faded from view, and it took him little time to walk through the unoccupied office. He remembered the debate between Themras and Sister Benevolence, considering their words in a new light now that he knew the truth behind the nun's faith. He remembered that Sarah had said that the Fallen God wanted to defeat time itself, and he thought of the sealed office, where they had hidden away every last relic the Priest had owned. Simon couldn't help but feel that such a way was cowardice; Paul had wanted to make the world better, not hide away from it. At the same time, he definitely could not agree with Themras, who had wanted to burn such knowledge as useless.

He didn't have time to consider such philosophical ideas, however. Instead, he carefully opened the door that led from the abbot's office into the landing, peeking out into the open area around the stairwell. He could see none of the nuns walking about, so he opened the door only wide enough to slide out, closing it gently behind him. He made his way towards the stairs, keeping his footfalls as quiet as possible as he searched every shadow for watching eyes. He watched the doorway that led to the prioress's office in particular; after his run-in with the armored woman in the catacombs, Simon especially did not want to encounter Sister Benevolence. He suspected that she was much more than she seemed.

He made his way down the stairs to the first floor, and then to the nave, without incident. The monastery seemed perfectly silent, and the dancing torches that lit the halls glowed off the pale stone, creating shifting shadows in every corner. He didn't see any nuns until he was into the nave, but as usual clusters of the sisters were standing along the walls chatting in whispered conferences, even despite the late hour. Simon glanced down at his hand once more, glad to see the shimmer of his invisibility magic, but still he watched the nuns to see if any turned his direction. They did not, distracted by their conversations, their faces hidden under their wimples.

As Simon approached the center of the chamber of worship, he checked every nook and cranny for signs of someone observing him. The windows were dark, their frames glinting in the firelight. As he looked up at the ceiling, he again noticed the avian statues along the tops of the pillars, including the owls, which all seemed to be staring in his direction. This gave him pause as he looked forward to where he had been standing earlier that day when he had first noticed the uncanny sculptures; they had been facing that way then, but now… His skin standing in goosebumps, Simon slowed his pace to an amble, looking around him in anxiety. He knew instinctually that something was very wrong.

As he reached the center of the nave, the nuns began to move as one. Without a word, with no sign of a cue, they all turned and walked towards the room's exit. Those standing closest to the narthex filed into it and made their way towards the main door leading out of the monastery. That uncanny procession included enough of the sisters that Simon knew he wouldn't be able to slip past them, but even as he stopped in place he knew that they were not the only problem he was about to face. They were stalling him, keeping him from making it out of the monastery, which meant...

Pivoting on his heel, Simon turned and sprinted back towards the staircase, abandoning all efforts at remaining silent. He dashed out of the nave and ran as hard as his legs could carry him towards the stairs, but even as he ran he could hear the main doors to the monastery bang open. He took the stairs three at a time, vaulting up them as he heard a sound like howling wind flow into the nave below. As he crested the stairs, barely keeping himself upright, his terror pressed him towards the door into the abbot's office even as his lungs screamed at him with fiery agony.

As he pushed himself into that office, he spared a glance behind him, and what he saw terrified him even more. A stream of shadows erupted from the center of the stairs, arcing straight after him. He threw himself past the door, flinging it shut behind him as he dashed across the office, black spots dancing in his eyes even as adrenaline kept his legs pumping. He flung himself against the unlocked door to the Priest's sanctum, but lost his footing, falling to the floor with a crash that left him breathless. He didn't have the capacity to think enough to realize he had just condemned himself to capture, clawing at the floor in utter helplessness.

But nothing happened. Panting for breath, he turned to look behind him. Fear spiked anew in his chest as he saw a familiar shape standing just beyond the doorway: the armored, winged woman that had challenged him in the catacombs, her face twisted in rage. Her eyes cored into him, but she didn't move, unwilling to cross the threshold. Simon gulped down a few more breaths before she spoke. "Do not touch anything in there." She scowled at him, daring him to defy her. "You do not know what you tempt by going into that room. My wrath is nothing compared to that of a goddess."

Simon thought briefly of the journal in his pocket, but he refused to acknowledge that to her. He wasn't certain why she wouldn't come into the room, but he didn't want to realize the reason belatedly. "The Priest is sacred to me, too," he managed through his heaving breaths.

"Children like you are not worthy of his memory. You pervert everything he was." The woman's gauntleted hands twitched into claws, as if she desperately wanted to seize him and drag him from that room. "You make a mockery of his sacrifice."

"And you don't?" Simon couldn't help himself, his righteous frustration forcing the panted words past his lips. "You lock away his memory. You put on a façade in order to kidnap people, all for some twisted fantasy. He wanted to change the world, not stop it from changing!"

The woman recoiled from him, a procession of various forms of fury flitting over her face. "You don't understand. This world is broken, and your false religion only makes it worse. We are just trying to save those we can." For just a moment, she shook her head mournfully, looking away. "We act out of love, not hatred like you." Her anger returning, she raised her eyes to him once more. "But you will learn, soon enough. In Pandemonium, you will realize the error of your ways. She will show you."

"Sorry," Simon said, climbing back to his feet and reaching for the edge of the door. "I think I'll pass on that invitation." She stared at him fiercely as he began to close the door in her face. "But I thank you for it all the same."

The door closed, and Simon leaned against it, his heart still pounding. From the other side of the door, he could still hear her voice. "You've already been chosen, and my mistress is very persistent. Whatever she thinks you are, whether or not she is right, she will have you for her own."

Simon didn't respond. Instead, he staggered further into the office, summoning his ball of arcane light once more. He had managed to escape, but now that route out of the monastery was closed to him. He moved to the false wall, his mind heavy with concern as he felt for the hidden trigger that would allow him into the staircase. He knew that he wouldn't be able to return to the inn through the monastery, which meant he would have to try the route through the service tunnels. He would just have to hope George wasn't watching that way very closely, and try to conceal his tracks as best he could.

Even so consumed by what was to come, Simon still paused to glance back one final time at the sanctum. His eyes drank in every detail they could, and he smiled a final time towards the painting. He wondered, briefly, what Paul Bernard would think of his own actions, his decision to risk his life for someone he cared for. He believed his hero would approve.

Reassured and resolved despite the setback he had faced, Simon proceeded back into the stairwell, and the door closed after him, leaving only silence and footprints in the dust.

* * *

As the door opened into the home that had once belonged to Father Wulfe, and before the man on the other side could enter, he heard the faint sounds of sobbing from within. Bracing himself for the worst, Sergeant Pascual stepped into the small house, staying bent at the waist to keep his head from banging against the low ceiling. He had never enjoying visiting the new inhabitant of this place, but never before had he dreaded coming here as much as he did now.

Inside, the scene was only partially what he had expected. Certainly, the young girl sobbing in the corner, her hair disheveled and her wrists and ankles shackled to a nearby dresser, was nothing to surprise the jaded mercenary; he knew what men such as Themras would do to get at the truth, and he knew well no one was safe from that malign curiosity, regardless of age or gender. Instead, it was the Lector himself that surprised the sergeant; instead of busying himself with pliers and hot pokers, the priest sat sedately in his chair, staring off at one of the walls with a contemplative expression. In front of him stood the innkeep, a bear of a man that Pascual would not have enjoyed tangling with. Now, however, that man stood rigidly, eyes open but sightless, as a golden gleam emanated from his entire body. He showed no signs of life aside from the rising and falling of his chest, and stood unnaturally still, as straight as the low roof would allow, as if held up by invisible strings.

"Ah, sergeant, you come at a good time," murmured the priest offhandedly. "Mr. Kramer here has just told me everything I needed to know. It seems our faith in young Inquisitor Hopkins was decidedly misplaced." Themras wore a sharp smile, but his tone was self-assured, as if he had expected little else. "The boy has been keeping a nasty little secret. He has been under the sway of a monster this entire time. This is a harsh lesson: never can we relax our guard, because heresy can sink its claws deep even into those that appear the most pious."

The sergeant nodded mechanically, trying not to look at the spellbound man standing in front of the priest. He made the mistake of glancing instead to the crumpled form of the girl, and she looked at him pleadingly, begging him for help with her eyes. He could only look away; whatever her crimes were, he didn't want to share her punishment. Not when she had crossed a man that solved all problems with fire.

"He also confessed to knowing that the witches in the monastery are corrupt as well, sending creatures in the night to kidnap victims for their dark rites. It seems this town will need to be cleansed of such vile influences. It will not be a peaceful process, but it is necessary if we are ever to be free of corruption." Lector Themras stood, plucking a rolled missive from the desk nearby. "But such is not a concern for men like you. You only think of coin, and wicked ways to spend it. So here, earn your pay: ride out and deliver this letter to the nearest outpost of the Orders. It is a call for reinforcements, so make certain they know that it is urgent and of the greatest importance. Tell them to come with greatest haste, because I will not wait for their arrival."

Pascual stepped forward to receive the letter, nodding to convey his understanding of the orders. He had learned as a novice that the less one said to men with power, the less they would focus on you, and he was once more proven right as the priest glanced back towards the stone-still form of the innkeeper. "I will see to the monastery myself tonight, but ride as swiftly as you can. Tomorrow, I shall need your help preparing at least two more pyres."

"You monster!" screamed the girl on the floor, lunging towards Themras as far as her chains would allow. "We didn't do anything wrong! Gina is innocent, and Simon is a good man! You just want to hurt us because that is what you like-!"

The Lector snapped his fingers, and a golden glow appeared around the girl, who immediately went still, her eyes dimming. "Oh, and, before you go, could you help me lock these criminals in the bedroom? I would hate for them to try to escape before their purification ceremony tomorrow."

His throat thick with guilt and trepidation, Pascual moved to comply. He plucked the key to the shackles from the desk next to the priest, and used it to free the girl, who stood mechanically as he pulled at her elbow. She trailed wordlessly after him as he led her towards the bedroom, dragging her chains behind her. The room that he deposited her in had belonged to a girl perhaps a few years younger than her, still decorated with wilted flowers and frilled curtains, but the furniture was solid enough to bind her to, and with a heavy heart Pascual did just that.

When he came back into the main room, he found the Lector sitting there with a small wooden box in his hands. As he watched, the priest caressed the box, staring at it with unnatural passion, his fingers brushing lightly against the clasp as he gripped it as though he were afraid the shadows would steal it from him. Saying nothing, Pascual grabbed hold of the innkeeper and led him into the room as well, bringing another set of heavy chains into the makeshift prison. He made the large man sit down as he shackled him securely, wrapping the chains around his limbs, but the prisoner made no move to resist, staring straight ahead.

Shaken by the pair's silence, Sergeant Pascual closed the door, sliding a small table in front of it to keep them from escaping easily, although he knew such precautions were likely unnecessary. He didn't know how long the priest's magic would last, but he had spoken before to someone who had suffered under the same spell, and the words they had used to describe the experience had left him determined never to bring it upon himself. Even after it wore off, neither of them would probably be able to rise from the floor for many hours to come. By that time, they would probably recover just enough for them to walk to their own executions.

When Pascual returned to the Lector, he noticed something had changed. The air itself felt strange, thick and charged, and a pale light glowed from the box in the priest's hands. The open box; inside, for just a moment, Pascual could see a single shimmering feather, incredibly white to the point of being translucent. The glow came from that item, and Themras was staring down at it with unconcealed rapture on his face, eyeing it greedily as though the item were worth all the riches in the world. The Lector reached out to cradle the feather gingerly, and the light in the room dimmed, as though the priest's hand drank it in. His skin did seem to take on a shine of its own, and when Themras turned to look towards the sergeant, Pascual recoiled from the pale golden light that seemed to be burning within his eyes. "Forgive me," the priest demanded, "but it seems I have still have work to do."

Sergeant Pascual could not leave the building fast enough. He was already on his horse, galloping away, when Lector Themras emerged from the home, his regalia and his crozier gleaming with their own luminescence, his eyes alight in gold, and the shimmering feather crushed within the grasp of his other hand. Without a word, the priest began the slow walk up the road that ascended the mountain, a newborn star burning within the darkness and climbing to the heavens.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Well, I was successful at producing two chapters this week, which I consider a surprising success with my current schedule. With testing over, next week will most likely not be as productive, so, barring a snow day or some other great boon, expect my next chapter will be released in a week. The next one should prove interesting with a few anticipated confrontations; please look forward to it!_

 _I will admit that I had to go back to an old chapter to make another change, although for reasons I mentioned in another author's note previously. Chapter 4 of_ Not Alone _had another instance of me referring to the age of the Seven Heroes being centuries ago, instead of just over a century, so I updated it to make that in line with my current chronology. Hopefully by now, much of the ending of that chapter in particular will be beginning to make greater sense…_

 _I still intend to try to complete this story by chapter fifteen, but there is a lot that has to happen before then. We are into the real action of this tale now, and it doesn't slow down much until the end – that is not to say we are done with the more lascivious side of this story, however! That is coming, too… But, allow me to thank you all for the generous comments I have been receiving (They helped to motivate me greatly this week!), and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well._

 _Now, I return to my planning, and my pen… perhaps after I take this chance for a little stolen sleep…_

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	12. Prophet

Simon had barely stepped into the library when he was attacked.

Fatigued from his trip back down the stairs leading from the monastery's sealed reliquary, Simon staggered into the lich's firelit chamber with a heavy heart, dreading the impending confession of his failure. Sarah had warned him that the other two routes out of the cavernous laboratory were not as safe, but now his hopes rested on the service tunnels, which at the least would not force him to accept the prospect of facing that winged warrior yet another time. Even if he encountered George or the mercenaries outside the tunnels' exit, he believed he could come up with an excuse to distract them long enough for him to get back to the inn.

He was so consumed by his thoughts as he entered the room that he only noticed the shape sprinting at him when it came within arm's reach. That warning was barely enough for him to subconsciously brace for impact, his mind still bereft of understanding, but even those preparations were not enough. He fell onto his back, stunned at the collision, and his assailant fell upon him ferociously.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Simon stammered, his mind reeling in surprise as Gina bathed his face with her tongue enthusiastically. Laughing, he stared in wonder at her face, his heart swelling uncontrollably as relief crashed into him like a tidal wave. "Gina, how did you get here?" His paramour didn't answer; instead, as soon as she met his gaze with eager eyes, she pressed forward, their lips colliding as she kissed him passionately.

"Ahem." Sarah sighed as she watched the two lovers kissing on the floor, her eyebrow arched. They paid her interruption no mind, lost in each other's presence entirely, and the exasperated lich fruitlessly tried clearing her throat a second time. "Whenever you two are finished, we really do have a problem here," she tried, but the embracing pair paid her little mind, as if the kobold's frenetically-wagging tail had batted the words away. "Oh, come on!"

Finally Simon and Gina disentangled themselves, his expression flushed with joy and embarrassment while her face was locked onto his, her tail still beating at the air behind her. "Sorry, I've just been worried about her-"

"I hate to break up the happy reunion, but don't stop worrying just yet," Sarah interjected, her face grave. She pointed towards the door leading out into the laboratory's main hall. "While you were gone, I think I found what we'll need to get you both out of here, but we really don't have time to use it now. Your mutt didn't bring the best news: it seems that your old boss has come back, and he discovered her at the inn you've been staying at."

"The Lector found you?" Simon asked, whirling to face Gina. "What about Charles and Mary? Are they-?" Gina's downturned face and whimper told him all he needed to know. Still, she pointed to the table in the center of the room, and the bound bundle of books he saw there, the same one he had left with Charles, confirmed his worst fears.

"And it gets worse. Three of them followed her to the entrance to the tunnels. She closed and blocked a few of the doors behind her, but that won't stop them forever." Sarah sighed, staring at Simon with tired eyes. "I was happy here in silence, you know? Nearly a hundred years I've spent researching and reading and studying in peace, and in one day you've managed to break part of my ceiling, alert my overzealous upstairs neighbors to my presence, and brought torch-bearing fanatics to my front door." She shook her head, crossing her arms before her chest. "At this point, I just want to send you both off so I can have some quiet again."

Simon winced at the reproach, but Gina immediately took action, stepping closer to the lich. Sarah glanced up at her, curiosity beginning to overcome the bitterness on her expression, but her eyes widened as Gina leaned closer, licking her face. "H-hey! Stop that!" Despite herself, Sarah laughed at the tickling tongue, and Gina grasped her to keep her from escaping. "Stupid mutt! That's gross!" She giggled out loud as her composure finally broke under the continued assault, and Simon grinned at the first genuine smile he had seen on the lich's face. "You are utterly shameless, do you know that?"

Gina finally released her, a self-assured smile on her face, and Sarah scowled in mock outrage up at the kobold. "This doesn't mean I forgive you," she warned Gina haughtily, but quickly retreated as Gina leaned closer once more. "But I will help you both, I suppose." Sarah glanced around Gina at Simon. "For now, you need to get out of here to avoid capture. Judging from the fact that you didn't just escape by the route you took, then there's only one safe way out left. If you two will take that, then I will stay behind to seal off the laboratory to keep them from finding any of us, and follow you out later."

"You mean we should take the path through the catacombs," Simon replied, frowning. "The nuns found me when I tried to take the upper route, but they may not expect me to try again so soon." He glanced at Gina, who nodded. "We can try to slip through while they watch the upstairs, and, if they catch us… I might have a way to bargain with them for our safe passage." With trembling fingers, he reached into his pocket, brushing against the journal he had stolen from the reliquary. "But will you be okay?"

Sarah shrugged indifferently, glancing around the shadowed confines of the library she called home. "Even if they manage to arrive before I seal off the entrance, I'm more than capable of scaring off a few ruffians. Either way, I can cast a spell that will block this laboratory off from everyone for a long time. I will find you afterwards, and we can cast the ritual together."

Simon frowned at suggestion. "But, if you seal this place, will you be able to come-"

"Don't worry about that now, just trust me. You have to go, now." Urgency added weight to Sarah's words. "If they catch you before you make it through the laboratory, then things will be much more complicated."

Simon nodded, but his face was pained. "Listen, I already owe you for all you've done to help me, but… one of the men coming is a friend. He's a good person, just misled, like I was once. I know this is selfish, just like I know you have to protect yourself, but try to avoid hurting him as much as you can."

Sarah sighed, pushing him away lightly. "Fine, I promise not to set anyone on fire. Now just try to get the same promise out of him for me, hmm? Go!"

Simon nodded, but looked back at Sarah with concern as he grabbed Gina's wrist and began to walk towards the library's exit. "Be safe, please." She waved him on impatiently, and he turned away with a guilty frown, hastening his pace to a jog as he and his lover made their way out of the library. He stopped once more, glancing back at her, and he found that the lich was still watching him as she picked a tome up from her table, her face shadowed by the cowl she wore.

Gina and Simon entered the expansive chamber beyond, and with a thought Simon summoned a globe of arcane light. The deep shadows in the room swallowed that dim illumination, leaving Simon barely able to avoid tripping over long-forgotten implements that had fallen to the floor ages ago, but Gina moved with more certainty, guiding him between the tables and benches with confident haste. Together they raced through the massive room, and Simon barely had time to see the shadowed devices they passed, let alone wonder at their purposes.

They paused only once, as the wall opposite the library's entrance came into sight. As they neared that extreme, they heard a dull booming echo through the chamber, repeated and angry, and they shared a panicked look. They knew that meant that George and the others were almost upon them. Mixed in with the cacophony was the shriek of tortured metal, hinges beginning to fail and separate, and that squeal was enough to spur them to action once more.

Gina took the lead, sprinting towards the wall to the right, and Simon pressed his exhausted legs to keep pace with her as they moved away from the sounds of weapons crashing against the yielding door. The chill, stale air burned at his lungs, but he absolutely refused to relent, focusing his entire attention on the ground before him, dreading the idea of tripping over something hidden in the shadows. Ahead of him, Gina reached the door, and slammed her shoulder into it again and again as she pressed its handle down with a paw. With a shriek quiet only in comparison to the dying portal behind them, the time-corroded hinges surrendered to her, and the door popped open, nearly spilling the kobold to the floor. Simon scooped her back upright as he caught up to her, and they darted into the darkness beyond, throwing the door closed behind them just as they heard the fatal crash of the other entrance finally crumpling to the ground.

Together the pair raced through the narrow hallway, which quickly turned into stairs that turned back upon themselves, leading to another long hallway. After this, too, became a flight of stairs, they passed through an arch and found themselves in a passage that was made of rougher stonework. Ahead, the hall narrowed, thick boulders on either side supporting a lower ceiling, and in the middle was a shimmering shadow. As they came closer, Simon could feel a tingling energy in the air, and he suspected that they were drawing near to the wards that Sarah had used to protect her home. His suspicions were given greater potency as they stepped into the shadow between the close walls, and passed through it into a familiar-looking passage with loose footstones and boneshelves along the walls. Simon didn't know whether to be relieved or dismayed, but they had safely arrived back in the monastery's catacombs.

He reached out and grasped Gina's hand, and she glanced over to him. With a reassuring smile, he nodded, and pictured a now-well-practiced spellrune. He was able to modify the magic enough to cover both of them, pouring his energy into the spell in a way that he knew he would have struggled with before, yet now felt simple and natural. Drawing confidence from that achievement, he nodded again to Gina, and she smiled at him as they began to walk into the catacombs.

The next room was larger than most in the crypts, nearly the size of the chamber outside of the sealed library where he had fought against the winged woman, though it was dwarfed by the laboratory below. Unlike many of the other rooms, this chamber sported bare walls, although it did have several large biers in its center, presumably for heroes to lay in state awaiting their final resting place. Simon glanced around, taking measure of his surroundings. He had not passed through this room during his earlier visit, so he wasn't entirely certain which of the exits would lead them back towards the twisting staircase that ascended to the monastery. He did note that he could see the flickering light of a torch down the paths to his left, and that fact made him pause; hopefully it was just one remaining from his previous visit earlier in the day, and not a sign that someone else was in the catacombs with them now.

The rattle of chains from the corners of the room immediately put that notion to rest.

"Gina, go back, we're-!"

Dark metal erupted from the shadows in snakelike streams, wrapping around him and yanking him back against the nearest wall. Stars danced in front of his eyes as his head slammed rudely against the stone, but as he tried to steady his swimming vision he felt chains crisscrossing across his chest and limbs, binding him firmly to the wall nearly a foot above the floor. He gasped at the pain, but desperation brought him clarity enough to throw himself against the links, which only tightened in response. He could hear similar sounds from nearby, and a glance to the wall to his right revealed that Gina had suffered the same fate as he, her white teeth bared as she thrashed against the dark links biting into her skin. His struggles continued until he heard the soft, impassioned voice echoing through the shadows.

" _Thou shall commit fornication… Thou shall always be lewd… Thou shall drown in pleasure… Thou shall always accept love…_ "

Simon looked down the hallway to the left, noticing the shadow moving slowly, confidently, towards the room he and Gina were trapped in. The form was silhouetted by the torchlight behind her, but he could see the head was bowed and the hands were held crossed in front of the white scapular, which gleamed slightly even in the darkness. She walked slowly, like a bride destined for the altar, and as he watched her head raised, and he could tell she stared straight at him. He didn't need light to know that she smiled.

" _Your lovely voice screaming love is your hymn… The lust burning in your chest is your faith… Your slamming hips are your worship… And your orgasm is your prayer to your God…_ "

As she came closer, entering the room, cold torches hanging in sconces on either side of the chamber burst into life, but the flames burned with an odd hue, oranges and purples and reds mingling in a cloying haze. The words he heard had the same effect on his mind, his head hanging as the room began to sway, pulsing with the beat of his heart. His vision tunneled, locked onto the woman approaching him. For a moment, he recognized her as the prioress, but as he blinked in confusion her whole body seemed to shimmer, and she opened her eyes to reveal gleaming violet that burned into his soul.

" _Fill your aching emptiness with carnal desires… And drown in pleasure with he who holds your heart…_ "

Just like the winged woman from before, the illusion fell away from the nun. In the place of Sister Benevolence was a much younger woman, although 'monster' was obviously more applicable. Her platinum hair remained, cascading down her back loosely under her white coif, but her ears were long and tapered, like the elves Simon had read about in stories. Her face was sharper now, with high cheekbones and plump red lips. Her white scapular featured a gaping hole that revealed much of her impressive cleavage, the dark cloth of her habit cupping and emphasizing her breasts. Lower, much of her long legs were bare, but as she strode towards him with swaying hips he noticed the black-feathered wings behind her back, and the dark spade-tipped tail that sinuously waved as she walked. The torchlight gleamed off of her jewelry, chain-shaped bracelets and a necklace, which struck him as rather odd for a nun until he thickly remembered the pale, exposed flesh she flaunted openly.

" _Amen._ "

She stood before him, and he fought to get his eyes to focus as his mind wavered, the thick scent of incense hanging in the air and muffling his thoughts. She smiled at him, staring at him with cold confidence mixed with warm longing, and as the words of her obscene prayer echoed into silence she reached up to stroke his cheek. The touch made a shiver run through his body, rattling the chains that embraced him, and her smile grew at that. "At last, my dear, I can finally give you the wisdom you have sought. Finally, there is no one to interrupt us-" From somewhere nearby, chains sang out, but a slight flick of her hand silence that distraction. "And I can, at long last, reintroduce you to our congregation."

Simon's mind struggled against the haze, but those efforts felt like the last desperate flailing of a drowning swimmer. "Reintroduce?"

Her eyes glowed with delight, and her hand slipped down to press against his chest. "Even now, your mind fascinates me. Most men would be drooling on themselves, but you fight on. Almost… heroically." A shadow passed over her visage. "Forgive me, my dear, for my… doubt. It may be impious, but I must know." She shifted her glance to his side, where his left hand was pressed palm-downward against the rough wall. She caressed his arm, her fingers trailing down to his wrist, then to the center of his hand, and he felt a strange power seep into his skin. He couldn't see what she looked upon; he could only see the look of wonder upon her face, a religious ecstasy that crushed the breath from her chest. "We were right. You are…" She looked back to his face, and he could see only reverence there, as though she were overwhelmed by his numbed expression. Slowly, though, that rapture fell into a very different expression, and her tongue parted her crimson lips as she leaned in closer to him. "Forgive me for not knowing you sooner. When we first met, I sought to claim you for our faith, but I did not yet realize who you are. I was blind, but Mother opened my eyes to the truth. She came to me in my dreams, and showed me what I had been too foolish to realize."

"Sister Benevolence, what are you…" Simon blinked, trying to force the dizzying presence from his mind, but he felt as though he was trying to herd fog.

"Oh, please," she laughed, and the sound was light like tinkling bells. "I wore that humble guise as part of my duties here. I have shepherded hundreds to the eternal embrace of Pandemonium, but all this time I have waited for my own turn to go home. I have waited for the one I would pledge myself to, reveal the truth of my soul to. I have waited… for you." She pressed against him, her soft breasts mashing against his stomach, and her eyes bored into his. "You, my love, can call me by my true name: Sophia."

Again he shivered, the contact of their bodies sending a current running through his nerves. The sensation collected in one place in particular, and despite the secluded part of his brain that screamed of danger, his member began to swell to life. Sister Benevolence - no, Sophia, he corrected himself slavishly – did not fail to notice that excitement, glancing down with a deep flush lighting her cheeks. Her hand now slid down his side, past his waist, before crossing over his leg to begin ascending his thigh.

Simon jolted at the deep growling from across the room, and the nun glanced to the side with narrowed eyes, scowling at the disruption. As her focus left him, Simon felt his mind clear, and he looked to see Gina pulling against the chains that gripped her, her eyes glowing with amber incandescence. Watching her fight against her bonds brought clarity to Simon's mind, and he forced himself to struggle as well, pressing through the fog that had crippled his thoughts. The prioress looked back to him to find his eyes focused on her once more, narrowed and aware. "This isn't right. Whoever, whatever, you think I am, I barely know you. Love? Dear? I've met you a handful of times, nothing more. We are nothing to each other."

Sophia smiled at that, shaking her head. "You're wrong. You don't know it yet, but you will. Believe it or not, you are the reason I exist, and I will devote my eternity to thanking you for that." Simon tensed as her fingers brushed against him, teasingly, and she leaned closer once more, recapturing his eyes with her gaze. "Fate and faith have brought us together, and nothing can separate us. Come, and let me show you the glory of our home beyond, where we will be safe and happy forevermore." Her eyes flicked dismissively to the side, towards the kobold yanking at her restraints. "You can even keep your little pet. She can sleep at the foot of our bed, after she learns a little discipline."

"Listen, I don't understand what you are talking about, but there are things I must do." Steeling himself, Simon thought of the journal hidden in his pocket. "I have something you want, something precious. If you will just release us-"

He winced as she pulled her hand from him, and instead reached to that pocket, plucking the journal from it effortlessly. "And now I have it, and you." She smiled softly at him, shaking her head. "Really, though, you are worth more than these stale words." Simon's jaw dropped at that, and he gaped at her as she reached up to stroke his cheek. "You are rather adorable when you are confused, I must admit."

"But…! He is a saint to you! How can you just dismiss his teachings?"

She shrugged delicately, sliding the journal back into his pocket. "Shouldn't you wish to know instead why I would value you so greatly?" She stared into his eyes as her fingers slid down to the waistband of his pants. He tensed as he felt those digits intrude, her slim hand questing lower. "Then relax, and let me teach you all you need to understand." Despite the terror he felt, his body reacted to her touch, and she gripped him with an eager smile. "Just let me take care of everything. You originally came here in search of wisdom, and I will give it to you." She began to pull him free of his pants, anticipation gleaming in her eyes. "Just remember, though, that wisdom has a price, and-"

"Hands off, Sister Slut!" Scowling at the intrusion, Sophia turned to the side, as did Simon. To their mutual shock, another person stood at the entrance to the room: a shorter girl, clad only in a flowing cloak and clutching a wooden staff with a zigzagged end, her eyes glowing with arcane light. Sarah smirked at the prioress, and Sophia's eyes narrowed at the lich's impudence. "You have other things to worry about now."

"Well, if it isn't the little rodent in our basement. Come to-" Before the dark prioress could finish her taunting, Sarah vanished from sight, leaving Sophia blinking in surprise. "You do know that we have spells to see through that, right?" the surprised nun demanded indignantly, her hand slipping away from Simon's softening member, as the man chained to the wall above her rolled his eyes in irritation at that admission.

"You do, but they don't." The disembodied voice came from across the room, nearer to Gina, but the prioress's attention was claimed by a different sound: the pounding of boots against stone. She whirled, but barely had time to act as three men burst into the room, weapons and torches in hand. The trio, George at the fore, paused in surprise at seeing her instead of the lich they had been chasing, and for a long moment the dark priestess and the hunters stared at each other in mutual astonishment.

"Monster!" George bellowed, and dashed at her, his sword leading the way as the mercenaries charged behind him.

"Oh, please," Sophia sighed, waving her hands either side. Immediately, chains lashed out of the shadows, wrapping around limbs and torsos, dragging the furious men away from her. The mercenaries gave ground, but George fought on, his eyes gleaming with golden light as he snarled at the woman staring disdainfully at him. One after the other, the mercenaries were yanked from the ground by nets of the rattling links, slamming into the walls with thunderous finality. George stood the longest, his teeth gritted in fury, but his boots slid against the floor as he struggled like a man leaning into hurricane winds. The dark priestess met his eyes with a sardonic smile, her head tilted as she dared him onward, and with a heroic roar he threw himself forward, thrusting his sword at her breast.

The blade stopped mere inches away, and with her nod the chains around him yanked him from his feet and clapped him against the wall, his head lolling nervelessly as he hung there like a vanquished trophy. Chuckling to herself, Sophia stepped closer to the struggling mercenaries and the ensnared Purifier, deep satisfaction evident in her low voice. "So, valiant champion, you continue your crusade against those you deem unworthy." George's head shifted slightly at her words, but he showed little other signs of life. "Tell me, did you intend to march me to the pyre just like you did that kind old priest? Remind me, who is the monster again?"

"Let us go!" wailed one of the mercenaries, tied against the wall parallel to the floor.

"Release us, witch!" snarled the other, yanking fruitlessly at the links coiling around his limbs.

Her lips pursing at the interruption, Sophia glanced at the two men through slitted eyes. "No." Her hands tensed, and twin fingersnaps released power into the air. The mercenaries could not see the runes that formed on the walls behind them, but they could sense something in the air, and they redoubled their efforts to escape, writhing in the chains that bound them. Their attempts were fruitless, and slowly they began to sink into the stone, dragged by the chains through the runic portals as the men screamed for help. The cries were silenced moments later as the stone rippled over their struggling forms, solidifying over the last glimpse of their bodies, leaving behind only the scorched outlines of the runes that had consumed and transported them.

Her hips swaying, Sophia stepped closer to George, but the smile she wore was far crueler than the one she had worn for Simon. She stared up at him, waiting for his head to raise groggily, but as his eyes widened into wakefulness she offered him a sadistic grin. "It wouldn't be fair for the brave hero to fight against an outnumbered woman, now would it?" she taunted, and George's eyes opened wide despite the pain he obviously felt, looking around for the absent mercenaries.

"Bring them back, fiend!" he demanded, struggling against the chains that gripped him. Even as those links sank into his flesh, he refused to relent, and for just a moment it looked like he might have more success than Simon.

"Do not mourn for them, for they only go to a much better place." The dark priestess chuckled, flicking back a strand of hair that had fallen forward over her shoulders. "They are in a heaven they do not deserve. Such is the mercy of my God, that she would grant even sinners a chance at absolution, at worship. She will give the same to you… murderer." Her eyes narrowed, and her voice dropped to almost a growl, "Tell me, how did it feel when that old priest forgave you with his final words? How do you sleep at night, knowing you burned an innocent man for trying to save his own granddaughter?" Above her, George's struggles slowed, and his fury melted in the face of the pain he felt. "You will never know peace. Not here. You will always doubt, and dread, and wait for justice to fall upon you." The Purifier's eyes dimmed as his head sank, her words toying with his brain just as they had Simon's, only to a more sadistic end. "But do not worry. We understand that pain. To all, even to you, we offer… salvation." George's eyes slowly closed, and his body slackened as her words and her magic sapped his resistance. "In Pandemonium, you will know the joy of forgetfulness, and in a lover's arms you will find the peace you seek."

George surrendered to his guilt and her serpentine words, sinking against the chains that now held him upright. Below him, Sophia smiled in triumph, and she raised her hand, fingers poised to snap. "But if you will excuse me, I have much more important matters to attend to, so-"

"You really don't want to do that."  
The dark nun froze in place as she heard Simon's words. Her eyes flicked to the place where he had been bound, and found his chains hanging loosely instead, glowing from where the lich's magic had parted them. She took a long moment to compose herself, restraining her twitching brow and irritated sigh, before turning gracefully around to face the source of that voice. She opened her violet eyes to see him standing there, waiting for her. Behind him stood two women: the kobold, eyes gleaming with internal light and her teeth bared as she braced to rush forward, and the lich, violet flames lapping up her arms as her eyes shone with ominous arcane energy. In the middle stood Simon, his earlier senselessness vanished from his resolute expression, the wooden staff he held extended before him, aimed at her heart, glowing with azure power. Sophia smiled at the trio as the power in the room began to build. "Oh, come now, must we resort to this?" she entreated, looking coquettishly to the ground as she took a step towards the three, who tensed as she came nearer. Her step only paused as a dull boom echoed through the catacombs, but she didn't stop her advance.

"We are leaving," Simon said, his tone brooking no argument. "And we are taking him with us."

"They can take him. You are the one I want." Her eyes raised to his face as she smiled coyly. "You were so eager to trade earlier, so-" Her words cut off as another deep rumble shook dust from the ceiling of the room, and her eyes flicked in the direction of the sound. "Come with me, and I will release him, or otherwise he will be gone."

"That's not going to happen," Simon replied, and the energy at the end of his borrowed staff surged, the wooden gleaming with restrained power. A dome of magical energy spread from that nexus, covering Simon and the two girls at his side. "He is leaving with us, and we can settle this matter another time."

"You mean you want to try to run away." Sophia clicked her tongue, and chains rattled in the dark corners of the room. "No matter where you flee, you cannot escape the eyes of a goddess-" Another explosion interrupted her, making the ground under their feet tremble, and her sculpted mien decayed into open frustration. " _Who_ is shaking _my monastery_?" she demanded shrilly, scowling up at the ceiling above them, her earlier intentions momentarily forgotten.

"Sounds to me like you've got some bigger problems right now," suggested Sarah wryly, shrugging her violet-enkindled arms. "Maybe you should see who's knocking."

"It's the Lector." Simon stared at the dark priestess, and she met his gaze with naked impatience. "He knows about me, and I bet he knows something about you, too."

"That man is insufferable," Sophia hissed, her hands clenching into fists. She paused, glancing back to Simon almost plaintively, but once more the building over their heads trembled. Sighing bitterly, she tore her gaze from the man she had come to claim. "Fine. We shall resume this later, after he has been… disposed of." Her eyes met Simon's once more, and he didn't flinch away from the hunger in her gaze. "But I will be back for you. We have waited so long for this that a day more is nothing. However far you run, it won't be enough." She whirled on her heels even as the catacombs quivered under their feet once again. "Look forward to it, my love."

Simon didn't respond, watching as she walked briskly away from them. When she vanished from sight, hidden by the shadows of the halls, he glanced to the girls at his side. "We need to go." The dull thump of George's body falling to the ground punctuated his statement.

Neither of the girls were inclined to argue, and moments later the four of them retraced their steps, sprinting back towards the laboratory as they carried George's limp body between them.

* * *

"You have to come out eventually."

Lector Themras paused in his efforts, eyeing the stone-faced monastery with contempt. The brilliant light emanating from his body did not blind him to the fell energy seeping out from the mortar and bricks of that supposedly-holy building, and he growled at its false visage, detesting the lie it embodied. So many claimed to be faithful, but their insides were rotten and corrupt, and only fire could cleanse them. So it would be with this malign chapel.

Effortlessly, he thought of the spellshape for _Bolt of the Wrathful_ , a charged shot of holy energy that would once have left him weakened after a single cast, and even that would have only been powerful enough to send men flying. Now, however, the orb of holy power over his head swelled like a maturing star, building with staggering potency, until with a glance he sent the energy careening at the building's façade. It landed just above the monastery's main door, exploding with enough might to level any of the lesser structures in the village below. The very ground beneath Themras's feet recoiled from the collision, as if the mountain itself winced at his righteous fury.

And yet the monastery itself was unfazed, a thin aura of disquieting energy wavering like oil on its surface. That sinful protection had vexed Themras for some time now, but he hardly felt fatigued; instead, the dark magic only increased his zeal to see the treasonous structure leveled, purified by holy flame just like its inhabitants must be. His impatience instead was due to the absence of the tainted prioress; he knew she was irrevocably corrupt, but he had not expected her to be so craven. Her, he intended to see to immediately. Perhaps watching their leader combust and crawl at his feet would drive the other twisted sisters to surrender themselves to his inevitable justice.

He sighed as he gripped his crozier and thought another bolt into existence, savoring the might the artifact had granted him. The Holy One had granted him a great gift indeed, elevating him above the common arbiters of the devout so he could see this mission completed. He would not fail, however long it took; he only hoped that he succeeded before the mercenary returned with his reinforcements, so all his brothers of the church could see the depths of his piety. Themras's heart swelled as he thought on that; he knew he had been chosen, but succeeding at this task would only grant him greater favor. He thought of the decrepit old men who had once sat in judgment upon him, the Archbishops of the Ecclesiastic Council, and he thought of how much good he could do if he were given chance to replace one of them. He would be able to reshape the face of their whole continent, purge the wicked and unclean with flame and fury by the thousands. He couldn't help but smile at the thought of those wretches being driven before him to their rightful destinies, lobbing the simmering orb of power at the monastery with an absent wave, hardly blinking as it exploded with enough power to topple forests.

So distracted was he that he almost didn't feel the foul presence arcing towards him. Cloaked by the midnight skies, the stream of shadows surged towards the Lector like a vaporous arrow seething with incoherent rage at his casual desecration. The shadows descended just as fast as a bolt, taking the form of a winged warrior in an instant, her sword raised high above her head as she plummeted towards him, her face too twisted by fury to make a single sound.

He almost didn't notice her. Promachos's blade slammed into a shield of golden energy, her meteoric descent interrupted in an instant. She tensed, driving the sword down with all of her might, but the dome showed no signs of stress, repelling her effortlessly even as she ground the edge of her blade against it, her teeth shining in the darkness with reflected light. Far beneath the shield, Lector Themras glanced up at her with a placid smile, nodding in genial greeting. "How wicked. You take the form of the angels as a mockery of the faith of the old Order." He shook his head with almost paternal disappointment. "That can hardly drive me to greater wrath than your very existence, so the effort is wasted upon me."

"You… ignorant… fool!" bellowed the dark valkyrie, pulling her sword back to slash again and again at the unyielding barrier. "You know nothing – you are the mockery!"

Sighing, he met her gaze, and her assault slowed as she saw the power burning chaotically in his eyes. Her rage fell away in the face of her repulsion, but beneath that was fear. "You are not worth my time."

Promachos stared as a handful of specks of light flared into existence over the mad priest's head. As she watched, they lengthened into incandescent spears, but they were only replaced with more, as several – many – dozens and dozens of similar bolts of divine power took form over his head. Realizing the mortal danger she was in, she beat the air with her dark wings, surging skyward in an instant. She rose toward the moon, arcing her flight away from the gleaming light beneath her, but despite her incredible swiftness it was entirely too late.

Dozens of the lances of light flew past her, and she desperately twisted as several seared against her, protecting herself with her owl-marked shield. The blessed barrier intercepted several of the bolts before it shattered, shielding her chest and face from the uncompromising energy for a long moment. It did not, however, grant the same protection to her wings. One of the shining bolts pierced straight through feathers, flesh, and bone, and with a shriek of agony the valkyrie plummeted to the earth, landing without restraint just before the doors to the monastery. That fall had unintentionally spared her life from the tens of bolts that had burnt through the air she had just occupied, but that was scant mercy. The cruel ground had left her unable to move, agony nailing her to the stone like a lepidopterist's pin through a butterfly. The lances now aimed at her from above the priest's head would be no more kind.

"So, monster, it is time for you to be sent back to the hells from which you were born. Bid them prepare room; there will be something of a rush coming behind you," taunted the Lector, angling his _Spears of Contempt_ at every surface of her supine form.

"Enough." Both the dark valkyrie and the priest paused at the sound of the doors to the monastery opening. The woman who stepped outside wore the face of Sister Benevolence once more, but that visage was twisted in a sour frown, and she glared at the Lector with barely-restrained outrage. She extended a hand before her, snapping her fingers, and immediately a rune formed under the crippled valkyrie, who looked at her with adoration and gratitude despite the pain on her face.

"Finally. It was quite discourteous of you to keep me waiting so long," scolded Themras. He smiled at the prioress with sardonic tolerance. "I do realize it is late, but sloth is the enemy of good works. Speaking of…"

He motioned towards the twisted form of the valkyrie, and a fusillade of holy energy lanced forward. Before they could pierce her, however, they parted to either side, searing into the ground in a V-shade around her. The air over the stricken woman gleamed with the same twisting energy that had shielded the monastery itself, and Promachos sobbed with relief as she began to sink into the earth. As she descended, she stared with concern at the prioress, who stood with hand extended, maintaining the shield that had saved the dark warrior from death. "Rest well, sister," offered the nun as the valkyrie sank out of sight. "You have earned your reward."

Lector Themras stared at the nun with a raised eyebrow. "I suppose this means you won't bother protesting your innocence, then," he suggested gamely.

"You have never known an innocent," the dark sister replied sharply. "You would have to have possessed innocence for you to recognize it in others. No, you see everyone as tainted as you really are, and that allows you to justify your violence."

Lector Themras chuckled at her response. "Do you really mean to lecture me?" He smiled at her, but the teeth exposed above his red beard looked ready to sink into flesh. "Spare me."

"I would love to." Sister Benevolence sighed as she met his gaze. "I intend to, actually. I don't honestly know what there is left inside you to save, aside from the rotten faith that has eaten away at your soul, but someone may find something in you worth redeeming." She shook her head as if she doubted her own words. "I wish them luck."

"Please. Do you really think that you have the power to stand against me? To defy holy might?" A ball of light energy formed over Themras's head, waving and surging as it swelled. "I am a manifestation of the will of the church, and I will see you and all of your wretched kind purged."

"Power?" It was the prioress's turn to laugh. "Divine magic, plucked from a source you don't understand. But what is that in the face of a true goddess?" She spread her arms wide, daring him to act, as the orb of power above him grew and grew. "Let me show you the power of faith."

Shaking his head, Themras grinned at her. "So be it, if that is how you wish to die." His eyes flicked to the monastery's windows, where he could see the faces of the sisters pressed against the glass, watching the confrontation with baited breath. "A fitting end for one like you, burning as a martyr to empty lies." The globe above him seethed with potency, already nearly as big as Themras himself, and he paused until he saw her glance up at it. If he was disappointed at the lack of fear on her face, his grin did not show it. With a wave, he sent it forward, and the bulging sphere tumbled towards her as it burned like a new sun.

The explosion shook the mountain. The harsh winds whipped dust into the air, and even Themras had to protect his eyes with his sleeve, chuckling into the cloth, protected by his divine barrier. It took several long minutes for the air to clear, and he waited patiently, staring as he waited for the crater where she had once stood to be revealed.

Except, when the air cleared, Sister Benevolence still stood, her arms spread wide, a peaceful smile upon her face. She was completely unharmed, unfazed, and she glanced up to the heavens as if to offer thanks. Her eyes fell to his face, and the challenge he found in their depths gave birth to a growl deep within his chest. "Would you like to try again?"

Lector Themras stared at her flatly, his earlier jocularity vanished. The gleam around him had not diminished, however, and the fingers that gripped his crozier shook with a barely-constrained urge to wrap around her throat. "Tell me, witch, how long do you think you can manage that?"

"Long enough for your stolen power to leave you. Even if it takes days."

"Even in the face of an army?" The Lector's smile was cruel. "I am not alone. My brothers will arrive, as early as dawn, to see you and all your kind put to your just reward. Time is on my side, not yours."

Sister Benevolence was slow in responding. Instead, she glanced to the ground where the valkyrie had fallen. The winged warrior had dropped something in her plummet, and the prioress hastily covered it with her foot, subtly shielding it from the priest's gaze. "Well, then, I should make preparations, if we are to expect company." Her eyes again darted to the priest's reddening face. "Feel free to come back in the morning with your friends. We will show them the same hospitality, as my God is a generous one. I would ask if you could say the same, but…" Her lilted voice was a slap in the face of the furious Lector.

"Mankind has no need for gods, nor monsters like you." Lector Themras turned, striding away from the monastery without haste. "We shall show you that tomorrow, after I have disposed of your servants in the village below." Without further courtesy, he marched away, still glowing in the night without any sign of lost power.

Sister Benevolence watched him go. Only as he vanished from sight did she sigh, allowing her illusion to slip once more. Again wearing her true face as Sophia, she forced herself to offer a brave smile back to the watching sisters inside the monastery, who were cheering and staring at her with adulation. Her courage slipped as she turned away, but she looked to the ground to be certain of her unspoken plan.

Under her foot was a thick cigar, a trophy taken by Promachos when she had intercepted the priest's mercenary messenger. The Lector's reinforcements would never arrive, and his power would not last long enough for him to retrieve help himself. Still, he would have to be silenced before he could tell anyone of his discoveries, if the monastery was to be saved. She thought briefly of his final words with a frown, before glancing behind her, thinking of the young man she had left in the catacombs.

"Such a vexing man," she muttered, her stomach sour, and she wasn't sure which she meant, Simon or the Lector. She knew what she had to do, but despite her faith she could not dismiss her concerns. She only knew that it was time for this matter to end.

Tomorrow would be the final day any of them would see Videre.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _Pray forgive me for the delay in this chapter. A handful of varied events have kept me out of commission: I have been petsitting, suffered from a cold, and competed in another speedwriting competition, all since my last submission. I cringe to admit the next chapter may also be slightly delayed, considering it is meant to be the lead-in to the climax of this tale, but I can hold out hopes for a productive Friday, at the least._

 _Oh, I should source the prayer that Sophia utters as she first approaches Simon. That is taken from the MGE game,_ Another Story of Fallen Maidens: Fallen Hero and the Magic Sword of Truth _. Since that is specifically used to address the Fallen God, I figured it would be the closest thing to actual scripture that her worshipers would have that I have access to. I felt like it fit in well enough, but credit for those lines belongs to the makers of the game._

 _I will not say overmuch in this note; I have spent hours at the keys already, and instead need to launch myself at planning out the events of the next chapter. I do offer gratitude, as always, that you have read my humble works, and especially to those who offer words or other forms of honor. I hope you have enjoyed my work, and I shall return soon with the next installment. Wish me luck!_

 _But soon, so soon, I must sleep…_

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	13. Apostate

"You are really not good at escaping, are you?"

Simon panted for breath as he leaned against the table, his chest heaving as he glowered at the lich, who seemed much less winded by their flight away from the catacombs. That might have had something to do with the fact that she had hardly helped him and Gina to carry the new fourth member of their group, who now lay snoring upon the floor a short distance away. Thankfully, George had remained unconscious during their journey from the catacombs back down to the library, and Simon prayed he remained that way for a while longer. He did not look forward to what would happen when the Purifier awoke, and judging from the way Gina sat on her haunches near him, her eyes alert and anxious, she was not eager for it either.

Simon shrugged at Sarah, composing himself as he glanced around the library. "Well, at least now we can take the third way out without any problems, right?" he suggested optimistically.

"From the brief time I've come to know you, the phrase 'without any problems' doesn't seem applicable to anything you do." The lich shook her head in exasperation as she drew closer to him, motioning to the side. "And what about him?"  
Simon glanced over to George's slumbering form. "I… don't know. I mean, if we are able to teleport away, then I suppose we could just leave him, since even the Lector should realize that George wasn't involved with us. For now, we might have to tie him up until we can leave, but I want to talk to him first."

The lich rolled her eyes at that. "Let me guess: you're going to try to win him over to your side of this?"

"Well, it worked on you, didn't it?" Simon chuckled as Sarah playfully punched his arm. "Like I said before, he's a good guy, he just-"

A whine from Gina interrupted him, and the kobold stepped warily away from the fallen Purifier. Seeing this, Simon moved to step forward, but a hand on his shoulder held him back. He glanced down at Sarah in time to see her take the staff from where he had left it leaning against the table, and she held it out to him with grim insistence in her eyes. Nodding regretfully, Simon took the staff from her, knowing she was preparing him for the worst. He could only hope that it wouldn't come to that.

"Ah… my head…" George winced as he began to stir, his hand drunkenly fumbling towards the back of his skull, gingerly touching the place where it had slammed against a stone wall in the catacombs above. His eyes fluttered open, squinted from the agony, but remained unfocused as he groaned loudly. As consciousness gradually trickled past the gripping pain, he paused in befuddlement, then gasped as realization struck him like a dam breaking. His eyes shot wide as he glanced around him, searching for the woman that had imprisoned him, but locking instead onto his friend as the other man walked closer. "Simon! You made it out of there!" He started to climb to his feet, but froze in place as his eyes shifted to stare past Simon at the other people in the room. "Wait, what is going on?"

"Listen, George, you're okay. We got you out of there before she could send you someplace else. You're safe here, but-"

"Safe? We? Simon, those are monsters behind you." His eyes darted from Gina to Sarah and back to Simon. "They're what we came here to hunt. Why are they here? Why aren't you attacking them?"

"Because they're my friends." Simon sighed, leaning on the staff he had borrowed from Sarah. "George, listen, so much has happened since we spoke, and there is a lot I need to tell you-"

"No," George muttered under his breath, scrabbling to back away from his friend, "No, no, no. No, this isn't right. This isn't good. The Lector said they had poisoned your mind; he was right." George staggered to his feet, glaring at the girls behind Simon. "They've messed with your mind, Simon, like that witch in the crypts. You're not yourself." His hand found the hilt of his sword, and the metal rang out against the lip of its scabbard as he drew it forth, the tip weaving in circles in front of him. "Just step out of the way and I'll-"

"No." The steel in Simon's voice did not waver. "They are my friends, and I won't let anyone hurt them. They are good people, George. The Lector is the real monster."

George's eyes narrowed, and he looked back to Simon with a scowl. "They are making you think that. Get out of my way, Simon. Let me save you." He didn't wait for a response, lurching forward to rush past the other man.

He rebounded off the translucent blue barrier that snapped into existence between him and the girls behind Simon. He fell back, gaping, and he looked to Simon with wide-mouthed shock. Simon returned the look with a resolute stare, shaking his head slowly. George's betrayed expression decayed into anger as his blade turned towards the other young man. "Simon, let me through. Let me do what we came here to do. When they are gone, we can go home. Things can go back to the way they were, I promise."

"I'm not going home." Simon's voice was thick, but he didn't move an inch. "My place is with them, now."

"I'm sorry, then." George met Simon's eyes for a long moment, and both could see the pain mirrored between them. George's shoulders slumped, and he glanced to the side, away from his friend. "But you'll understand once you're free of them." When he moved, it was sudden and brutal, his sword slamming into the barrier between the two, battering it in ringing strikes that caused the barrier to pulse with light. Simon grunted under the assault, but pushed back, focusing his mind to maintain the shield that his friend was furiously lashing into. When the Purifier showed no sign of stopping, his blade beginning to take on a golden hue, Simon knew he couldn't remain passive.

George stumbled forward as one of his swings passed freely through the space where the barrier had been. Before he could regain his footing and close the distance between him and any of the three watching him, Simon cast his spell once more, this time right in front of the unbalanced monster hunter. The collision sent George flying backward, his sword landing at his feet as he toppled onto his back, his head slamming into the floor. That was enough to leave him still for a moment, and Simon sighed as he stared at him. "This doesn't have to be this way, George. Just listen to me, and I'll show you the truth. We've been misled our whole lives, and it's time for us to grow up and see the world for what it is."

"The truth, you said? Did you tell me the truth back in the inn?" George fought to sit up, scowling as he struggled to climb back to his feet. "That dog smell… it was that monster, wasn't it? I recognize the rags she is wearing. This whole time, you've been on their side. You, and Mary, and Mr. Kramer. You've been lying to me all along, but now you preach to me about the truth?" George shook his head, his eyes wild. "I see you for what you are, Simon. It's you… you're what I came here to hunt."

Simon's blood ran cold at those words, but he nodded. "I'm sorry you see it that way. I wish you weren't right about me lying to you. But that doesn't mean I am going to let you hurt these girls. They are innocent; we're the ones who killed someone without cause." He extended the staff in front of him, the tip pointing at his former friend. He wanted to convince George, but something in the Purifier's eyes warned him that might be impossible. "Leave, George. I won't hurt you, but you won't touch them, or me."

George picked up his sword, looking at the blade for a moment before glaring back at Simon. "You won't get away with this. The Lector will come for you, and all of these monsters, until this place has been purified. You'll burn for this, Simon; I can't save you from that."

"Don't worry about me, George," Simon replied, remorse thick in his throat. "Save yourself. From ignorance, if you can; from death if you can't."

The Purifier didn't say another word. He sheathed his sword and walked past Simon, turning his head to glare at the two girls behind him as he went. He moved towards the door leading into the laboratory, and paused at the threshold to glance back at Simon. For a moment, his expression shifted between anger and regret, but his words died in his mouth, and so he turned and left the room. Sarah's hands glowed with violet power, and the door rumbled closed behind him, slamming like the lid of a tomb.

The tension left the room as that door sealed, and Simon leaned heavily on the staff, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catch up to him. He felt wearied in ways he had never before experienced, and it was all he could do to remain standing. He couldn't process what had just happened with George, but his heart was doing that thinking instead of his brain, and the deep pain in his chest spoke volumes on the subject of betrayed expectations and dying hopes. He felt a presence at his side, and turned to see Gina looking at him with worried eyes. Raising his hand to pat her head felt like struggling against weighted ropes, but he felt better when he saw her smile, and that gave him the strength to turn and face Sarah. "So, that could've gone better," he admitted dryly. "What do we do from here?"

The lich was slow in answering. "I… don't know. There is a problem with my plan: we can't enact it immediately. That's why I had hoped to escape first, giving us time to set things up for the spell."

Simon shrugged resignedly. "Well, we still need to free Mary and Mr. Kramer before we can escape, anyways. We can worry about the spell afterwards."

Sarah huffed out an annoyed sigh in response. "Well, that's just the issue. If my spell had worked, we would have been better prepared to save them, as well." Simon gave her a quizzical look as he crossed over to one of the lavishly-padded chairs in front of the table, his wobbling legs threatening to surrender to gravity at any moment. He motioned to another of the chairs for Gina, but instead she sank to the floor beside him, leaning against his leg and nuzzling it. He smiled at that and stroked her head, looking back up to Sarah, who remained standing, taking on the stance of a lecturer. "Teleportation is pretty much impossible for us. Since we don't know a valid location, we would be going blind, which is ill-advised to say the least."

Simon nodded, sinking back further into the seat. "You said that before. I had hoped you would find a spell with a set destination, or something like that."

Sarah shook her head, her pale hair swaying with the motion. "I had considered that, or perhaps a way of accessing areas with a strong connection to the leylines, considering that was the main topic of the research done here. Unfortunately, any such writings that this place would have would be outdated by nearly a century at this point. Even if such a spell existed, the construction of a new building, for example, or a rockslide after the time the book was written could end with us melding with a wall or appearing dozens of feet into the air."

Simon groaned at that. "This is not the news I was hoping for," he groused, his fingers tangling themselves in Gina's hair as he petted her. She pressed tighter against him, wrapping an arm around his knee to pull his leg closer.

One pale-skinned finger rose above the others. "But! If we cannot teleport away from here…" Sarah paused, waiting for Simon to complete her thought.

He was a long time in answering. Thinking felt like swimming upstream at this point, and distantly his mind cried out for sleep. Still, he was curious enough to consider her words. "Then we bring something to us, instead?" he hazarded.

"Not some _thing_ , some _one_." Sarah stood proudly, her chest thrust forward. This had the side effect of exposing her, the edges of her cloak falling to either side, and Simon looked away, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Sarah did not seem to notice, though Gina did, glancing between the two with a raised eyebrow. "We can summon someone to this place to help us. Specifically, someone with the knowledge of a spell to teleport us all out of here, once we have freed your friends."

"Yeah, but do you know anyone like that?" Simon asked. "No one I know will help monsters, and you've been sealed away for the better part of a hundred years. Who do you know that would even be still alive?" He winced at that, immediately regretting the harshness of his words. "Sorry."

She shook her head with a sly smile. "I think I know someone who would fit the description." She nodded towards Simon's right hand, and he glanced numbly at it. His eyes widened as he focused on the staff he still held.

"You don't mean… one of the Heroes?"

"My old master," she amended with a grin. "People with a greater supply of mana tend to live longer anyways, so it's likely that he is still alive. Since I know him well, and we have something of his on hand to use as a spiritual anchor, it should be child's play to open a portal he can use to come here. Once he arrives, he can help us create a spell to teleport to someplace further east, where we should all be safe."

Excitement flared to life in Simon's chest, and he climbed from the chair to face Sarah directly. "Then that's perfect! Let's go ahead and see if we can cast the spell!" His grin decayed when he saw the sullen frown on her face.

"I would love to, but I told you that we can't." Adjusting her cloak to cover her chest once more, and unintentionally drawing Simon's eyes again, Sarah scowled down at the floor. "That spell is very demanding. I would have enough mana to cast it on a good day, but today, with the spells I started to cast on you when you first burst in here, not to mention the ones I used freeing you from that perverted priestess upstairs, there is no way I can manage it. If I had a day or so to rest…"

Simon's shoulders slumped. "We don't. If Lector Themras is convinced my friends are guilty, he might condemn them as early as tomorrow." His fingers tightened painfully on the staff he held as he thought of it. He couldn't leave Mary and Charles in that madman's hands. "We'll have to do it ourselves. Or… could I cast the spell?"

Sarah met his gaze with apology in her eyes. "You would need to know the person you are summoning, even with the anchor. You would definitely have enough mana to cast the spell, but since you don't know my master, your voice wouldn't reach him, and you couldn't form a strong enough bond to establish the portal."

Simon was conscious of Gina rising behind him, staring intently at Sarah over his shoulder. He was too distracted to think about that, though, as he mulled over their problem. If Sarah had to be the one to cast the spell, then it was a matter of regaining her mana. They could attempt a rescue without any help, but he wasn't hopeful of their chances; Lector Themras was capable of powerful magic, and now George would warn him that they were coming. For a moment, he regretted letting the George leave, but he had not wanted to be forced to fight his friend, and he had suspected the same was true for George. With an irritated growl, he shook his head, clearing it of such thoughts. He needed to focus on the problem before them. Sarah had said that the leyblood in the chamber beyond was depleted, so that would not make for an easy way to regain her power, if that even worked somehow. If only there was some other way they could replenish her mana…

"Yes? What is it?" Sarah asked, looking at Gina as the kobold tugged on her arm. She looked at the furry digit pointing towards Simon. "No, he can't cast the spell, we've established that already," the lich protested. Her eyes widened as the pointing finger pointed lower. "W-what are you…?" Color darkened Sarah's cheeks, and her head swiftly turned away from looking at Simon. "You stupid mutt, there's no way that will work."

Gina turned to Simon, her lips quirking into a smile. He met her glance with confusion, rapidly looking between the two girls. "What is it? What won't work?"

Gina offered him a short bark in response, the sound reminding him of a laugh. She stepped closer, mischief in her eyes, her hips swaying as she stalked up to him. To his surprise, he felt her paw press against his thigh, rubbing upwards, and she captured his eyes with her own, her smile looking hungry and eager. She rubbed his crotch through his pants, stroking up and down with varying pressure, and despite his exhaustion his lower body rose immediately to the occasion. "Umm, Gina, I don't know if this is the right time for this-"

Gina backed away, but her seductive playfulness remained as she stared at him even as she drew nearer to Sarah. Simon realized that the lich had been watching Gina's ministrations with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and even as the kobold came closer Sarah's eyes remained locked on his tightened trousers, staring with a needful intensity. Her attention was so focused that she barely noticed Gina grasp her cloak, though she did shriek a complaint as the kobold ripped it from her, her slim arms crossing to cover her exposed pale chest. Her failure to do so adequately did not make Simon's swelling problem any better, especially as his eyes fell lower on her now-naked body. He should have been accustomed to her body, since she was never dressed in much, but the removal of that last refuge made her look surprisingly vulnerable. "Umm, Sarah, care to explain what she's thinking?"

Sarah met the kobold's gaze with wide eyes, looking like cornered prey before a hound's jaws. "Mana can be transferred," Sarah started, her voice trembling as Gina leaned in closer. "There are various methods, but the easiest way is through, ah…" The lich shivered as the kobold's breath gusted against her collarbone as Gina stood right before her, leaning further down. "Direct injection of masculine essence via copulation- Ah!" Her voice sang out sweetly as Gina's tongue extended to press against soft flesh, lapping upwards. "Both parties receive power from their partner, but the corresponding boost for the female is… is…" Gina's efforts had increased in pace, her tongue bathing the lich's left breast with swift, rhythmic motions. Simon did not notice the hanging sentence, his attention imprisoned by the way Sarah's breast was lifted by the forceful tongue as it lapped under the nipple, and the way that nub had hardened tantalizingly.

Gina paused her activities to blow against that sensitive skin, and a shiver vibrated up the lich's arched spine, bursting from her lips with a gasp. Gina grinned up at the lich before turning to Simon, waving him closer. He mindlessly obeyed, still struggling to understand what was happening; his exhausted brain was decidedly taxed, starved as it was by the blood being redirected southward. As he came close, Gina reached out to take his wrist, and pulled his hand until it rested a short distance away from Sarah's untouched right breast. The lich stared down at that hand with a mixture of terror and need, and glanced up from it to meet Simon's gaze. Their eyes locked as his hand hovered there, almost but not quite touching her. Simon nodded, but didn't move closer. "Is this what you want?"

"I…" Sarah's eyes moved rapidly from his face, to his hand, to Gina, and back once more. Gina smirked at her indecision, leaning forward once more to flick her tongue out against the pale skin in front of her, tracing a line upward from the base of Sarah's ribs to the underside of her breast, continuing upwards. Gasping once more, Sarah pressed her chest forward, meeting Simon's hand, and he instinctively began to massage the smooth flesh in his grasp. The lich's pleasured sigh at that spurred him onward as he marveled at how her breast was just as large as Gina's, though softer, and he drank in her sweet moans as he caressed her, while at his side Gina gave Sarah her own attention. He continued for just a moment before following Gina's cue, leaning down to kiss Sarah's collarbone, meandering downward across her chill skin. Her nipple was hard before his lips arrived at that destination, so he sucked it into his warm mouth, teasing it with his tongue as he pulled on it with his lips. He even nibbled on it just a bit, but Sarah's reaction was dramatic, a bit-off cry that was followed by her hand tangling itself in the hair at the back of his head, holding him in place.

"This isn't fair," Sarah moaned plaintively, looking down at both of them, but neither Simon nor Gina paused in their varied attentions. Simon in particular was pleased to see the sardonic lich reduced to meekly surrendering to his tongue, especially since she gripped his head firmly in place, her body more honest than her mouth, though the pleading moans coming from there were truthful enough. He fell into a rhythm beside Gina, tormenting the lich in a counterpoint to the girl at his side: following her gentle lick with a teasing bite, raining kisses while Gina suckled, flicking his tongue at the same time as Gina in a way that left Sarah leaning against the table and quivering.

Simon paused as he felt Gina's hand press against his shoulder, and he glanced over to see her looking at him with an ominous smile. She guided him to stand up, and led him back towards the chair, while Sarah followed behind, an odd timidity to her expression that almost hid her eagerness. As the edge of the chair bumped into the back of his legs, Simon paused, but Gina captured his shirt with her claws, tugging upwards. She shucked him of his attire with relentless efficiency, tossing the leyfluid-sullied shirt to the side, followed by his pants dropping to the cold floor. When Simon fell into the chair, it was his bared rear that met the fabric, and his taut member stood upright from his lap.

Gina reached over to guide Sarah down with her, and the lich obediently followed, taking to her knees in front of him. The two girls leaned close to Simon, and he swallowed through a throat that was suddenly far too tight as Gina took the lead. She glanced over to Sarah to make certain the other girl was watching, though she definitely was, her violet eyes wide and focused on Simon's length. Gina pressed closer, her tongue flicking out to trace a line up the bottom of his shaft, and Simon groaned from deep within his chest at that painfully-pleasant sensation, especially as her tongue batted at the sensitive spot just below the head. Gina kissed along his shaft, watching to ensure her student was paying rapt attention, and then rose to capture the tip with her lips, plunging it into the warmth of her mouth. Simon's fingers curled into the armrests as he drowned in the heat descending down his length, the sucking rise and fall banishing all other thoughts, all other things in existence save for that caressed by her lips and tongue.

Simon's eyes shot open as she pulled back, his member falling free with a 'pop' of suction. He saw his lover glance to Sarah with an expectant smile, reaching down to take Sarah's hand and guide it almost to him. The pale girl paused, her fingers half-curled timidly, and she glanced up to him for reassurance. He nodded, his whole body tense, and she looked down to his shaft as her hand completed its journey. He hissed through tight lips as her cool fingers curled around him, stroking up and down uncertainly, her clumsiness in stark contrast with Gina's confidence. Sarah stared down at him, marveling at the way the skin moved, how it pulsed in her hand, but the kobold pressed her onward, reaching up to stroke Sarah's hair but also pressing the shy lich down closer to the object of her desire. Sarah took the hint, her purple lips parting slightly as she lowered her face, eyes raising to meet Simon's, and she kissed the very tip, her mouth open enough to take just the farthest extent inside. She sucked on it gently, as if testing its flavor, and he twitched as he felt the tip of her tongue tease the slitted opening at the end. His moan encouraged her, and she accepted more of his length into her mouth. The feeling inside wasn't as heated as Gina's mouth, but that contrast only increased the pleasure, and Simon could already feel pressure building inside as Sarah's head bobbed up and down hesitantly, her eyes turning up to his face with evaluative curiosity.

Simon closed his eyes as he savored the feelings coming from below, but opened them to glance down as he felt Gina moving closer. She pressed Sarah to one side as she moved towards him, crawling on her hands as she approached him from beneath the lich, who did not pause in her own increasingly-loud activities. A guttural moan ripped through Simon as he felt Gina's tongue begin to caress him below the base of his shaft, massaging his balls with rolling licks that bathed them in her saliva. This only motivated Sarah to increase her pace, and the sensation of both girls attacking him was enough to make Simon's hands grip the armrests with white-knuckled desperation.

His nails pierced into the fabric as he felt Sarah plunge down onto him, taking him deep into her throat. He could feel the muscles there rippling against his head, and Simon's eyes rolled back into his head as she moved minutely back and forth just like that. To his terror and ecstasy, he quickly discovered that, as a lich, Sarah had little need to breathe, and thus she kept him sheathed in her throat for long moments as Gina, not willing to be outdone, attacked him once more, sucking each of his balls into her mouth and caressing them with her tongue.

"I-" Simon was incapable of words at this point, but the warning was enough. Sarah pulled back, but kept him within her mouth, twisting her tongue around his over-sensitive flesh as she rocked back and forth. Gina continued her own assault even as he began to shudder, and the world dissolved into white brilliance as Simon spent himself into Sarah's mouth, gasping at the intensity of the sensation as all thoughts were burned away. The orgasm was long and powerful, his shaft pulsing as he released again and again. Finally he bonelessly collapsed back into the chair, his chest heaving, as Sarah finally let his softening self fall from her lips. He watched her throat move as she consumed all he had given her, a smile on her lips. Almost immediately, he noticed a violet incandescence in her eyes, and her confidence seemed to return as power swelled within her.

"Well, it seems that proves that theory," Sarah noted academically, leaning back as Gina captured Simon's wilting member from her. The kobold took it into her mouth, as if trying to suck the last drops from him, and he groaned from the all-but-painful sensitivity. "I don't know if this will be enough mana for me to cast the spell, but at the least I can begin experimenting with it, perhaps try to reestablish a mental connection with my master." Simon was barely listening, distracted by Gina's continued attentions as the kobold rose from her knees, kissing her way up to his chest, her paws caressing him passionately. "With your… contribution, I will go ahead and- wait, why are you looking at me like that?" Sarah paused as she noticed Gina turn to stare at her, the kobold's lips upturned at the edges. Gina pushed away from Simon, walking past Sarah and picking up the discarded cloak from the floor. As the two befuddled watchers observed her spread it over the floor, they both began to suspect that she was not quite finished with their previous activity.

Their suspicions were confirmed as she strode over to Sarah, taking her by one arm and leading her to the makeshift blanket. Despite the lich's spluttered protests, she guided Sarah to lay atop the cloak, turning her to face Simon. The draining exhaustion of his release was forgotten as Gina pressed the lich's legs apart, leaving Sarah's lower lips naked to his eyes. She noticed his needful gaze with a blush, and looked in panic to Gina, but the other girl only bit her lower lip in a hungry grin as her paw stroked across Sarah's smooth stomach. Sarah tried once more to protest, but strangled on the words as Gina's paw descended, the puffy pads pressing against her mound in a firm caress. Gina waved Simon forward as her lips descended once more towards Sarah's breast, and the lich moaned out loud as she watched him rise from the chair, staring at his member as it stirred to life once more.

He crossed over to the pair, kneeling in front of Sarah. "You don't have to do this, I…" Sarah stammered, but her legs spread wider as he drew close. He grinned at her, one hand stroking gently up from her ankle, rising toward her thigh. He leaned in closer, but kept his eyes locked on hers, smiling all the way.

"I don't mind, if you two don't," he admitted. Sarah looked to Gina, who pulled away from her breast. The kobold shared a smile with Simon before leaning in closer to the other girl, pulling her into a kiss. That distraction was enough to cause the lich to relax into Gina's embrace, and after a moment of observation Simon continued his progress, lowering his face to kiss her other lips with just as much passion as his lover was showing her mouth. Sarah's reaction was immediate; she squealed into Gina's mouth as her thighs clamped down on Simon's head, but within a moment she relaxed as he began to kiss all around her slit, only lightly brushing against her most sensitive spot. His tongue darted out to trace up that sweet line, and she shuddered at that touch, gasping as Gina pulled away to nibble a path down toward her other breast. Simon pressed in harder, pushing his tongue into her opening, and she rewarded him with a deep-throated moan of enthusiasm, her hand reaching down to grip his hair and pull him tightly into her. He let his tongue slide in and out of her, exploring her depths, tasting her wetness as she writhed in needy expectation. He could sense her disappointment when he pulled away, but he pounced on the sensitive nub higher up and drank in her loud cry as his tongue twirled around her clit.

Simon and Gina continued their assault on the outmatched lich for several minutes before Gina reached out to touch Simon's shoulder. When he looked at her, she drew close enough to kiss him, her tongue entering his mouth, licking the moisture from his lips. She glanced down at his renewed stiffness with a smile, and nodded to him. He kissed her once more before she laid back down beside Sarah, her paw stroking the lich's stomach and chest in needy presses. "Are you ready?" he asked, and Sarah stared up at him with wide eyes as she realized what he intended. She looked down at his length before meeting his gaze once more, swallowing visibly. Despite her anxiety, he could still see her need, and he wasn't surprised when she nodded. He leaned forward over her, body pressing against hers, as he sought her lips, and she eagerly met him, kissing him hungrily and refusing to let him go for a long minute.

Finally she fell back, panting, and with another nod spread her legs wider for him. He smiled at her reassuringly as he reached down to grip himself, lining himself up with her opening. She gasped as she felt his head brush against her lips, and he barely sank it into her, taking his time. He rocked in cautiously, and she hissed, so he froze in place to let her adjust to his width. As he felt her relax, he continued, pacing himself to give her time to accept him gradually. She was smaller than Gina, so it made sense that she felt tighter, but she also felt cooler than Gina's radiating heat as well. The sensation was not at all unpleasant, and Simon groaned as he finally buried himself to the hilt within the lich under him. He shuddered as he felt Gina licking at his chest now, and Sarah moaned under him as that caused him to shift suddenly. Taking that as encouragement, he began to move in earnest, and soon enough the air was filling by three panting breaths as they quickly increased the pace of their mutual lovemaking.

Simon refused to let Gina go untended, and so he stroked up her leg, caressing her sensitive thigh. She realized his intent and spread her legs for him, allowing him the chance to insert his finger into her wet hole. Her desperate whine urged for more, and so a second finger joined the first as his thumb sought out her nub. He alternated his focus between the two girls, fighting to find a rhythm that pleased both at the same time, but proved to be a quick learner. Soon enough, both girls were moaning under his attentions, their lips colliding as he exerted himself with all the energy he had left.

Gina, surprisingly, was the first to finish, grasping Sarah in a fierce hug and mashing her mouth against the other girl's, though that failed to muffle the high scream coming from inside her. Sarah's eyes were open wide at that, and watching Gina shudder in mindless bliss was the tipping point for her, especially as Simon redoubled his own efforts, slamming his hips into her brutishly. His own body was tensing towards release, and the feeling of Sarah's inner muscles rippling over his shaft was mind-blastingly intense. The lich was vocal in her orgasm, the high cry ringing in Simon's ears as he pounded into her relentlessly. Moments later his thoughts melted away as he pulsed inside of Sarah, and she grabbed onto him with mouth open wide as she felt his hot release surge into her, staring at him with an expression akin to wonder.

Simon collapsed atop Sarah, panting as the world seemed to darken, his hips still moving mechanically as if severed from his brain. For just a moment, he felt different, as if violet heat was flowing through his veins, but he didn't have time to think about it. Exhaustion finally claimed him, and he only had enough energy left to roll off of Sarah onto his side, and then to flop onto his back. The stone floor was cold, but he could feel the warmth of the fireplace nearby, and that was more than enough to relax him into almost immediate slumber.

The last thing he felt as darkness wrapped around him like a warm blanket was the soft press of two pairs of lips against his cheeks, and as he fell away into sleep he smiled up at Sarah and Gina with love.

* * *

 _The boy in the black cloak stood in darkness, but he was not alone. All around him, he could hear the pleasured cries of rutting couples, and the shadows danced in lustful grace, each with their own partner and to their own rhythm. It was as if he stood in the midst of an orgy, yet the heavens stretched starlessly above his head, swallowing the passionate voices into the empty void._

 _Empty, except for one titanic form that loomed above him, like a mountain suspended in the sky. The shadows were complete, yet he could still make out the edges of a vast feminine form, and a pair of colossal eyes focused entirely upon him. Those eyes were alive with energy, twisting oranges and purples and reds, and the air seemed to crackle under that fell gaze as she leaned closer toward him, staring with wrathful focus upon the slight form before her._

 _"You should be at my side," she proclaimed, with a voice containing all the force of a crumbling cliffside. "My daughter came for you to bring you to me, and you resisted. Can you not remember who you are? Do you not remember me, though you swore yourself to me long ago? Do you still not know who I am?" The godlike form leaned towards him, threatening to crush the landscape around him. "Submit, and be exalted!"_

 _For a moment, all was silent as the boy reached up to seize the edge of the cloak. He pulled back the cowl, gradually letting it slip past his head, and reached to his chest for the clasp that held the garment closed. Forcing it open, he shrugged his shoulders, stepping forward and out of the cloak, letting it fall at his feet, pooling at his ankles like the shadows around him._

 _Simon Hopkins emerged from the cloak, and he stared balefully up at the form above him. He extended one hand, and with a burst of violet flame a staff appeared in his grasp, wooden and with a crooked end. The wind gusted behind him, ringing with canine howls that rent the silence of the heavens, and the shadowed forms paused in their lewd revelry. "I know you, Athena," Simon declared, resolute and uncompromising, "and…_ I defy you _." With those words, he slammed the butt of the staff into the darkened earth, and light erupted forth, searing like the dawn of the very first day. That light chased away the shadows, sending them flying with inhuman speed, while Simon stood his ground, staring into the sky with jaw set and eyes challenging._

 _All was alight now, save for two places. The first was one pair of shadows still writhing in their mingling. One form, serpentine and feminine, embraced another passionately, and they both sang out in lustful voices that clawed at Simon's memory. Those sounds chipped at his certainty, but he forced his eyes and mind away from them, scowling up above._

 _The other remaining figure was the goddess, and she met his frown with one of her own. She leaned over him, a tsunami of divine presence, and stared into his eyes with furious challenge. "You have grown proud, and powerful," she rumbled, and for just a moment he thought he could see pride in those immense eyes above him. "But what I do, I do for your protection. I lost you once, Paul. I will not lose you again."_

 _Simon stared up at her, and his heart was clouded. "Paul died to protect those he loved. I would do the same… but I would rather live for them. I won't hide away from a world that I can help. I know why you have chosen to, but I refuse to abandon those I can save." He smiled softly at the goddess above. "You loved Paul because that is the choice he made. Don't stand in the way of me doing the same."_

 _The mountainous form of the deity pulled away, staring at him with new eyes. "You do not yet understand. This world is damned to rot, plagued by the dying will of a hateful god and scourged by the intolerance of man. Only I can save you, and only I can give you what you have lost." Her eyes turned down towards the mingled figures below before returning to him. "Come to me, and be safe in the world I made for you."_

 _He said nothing in response. Instead, he turned on his heels and walked away. He could still hear the impassioned cries of the lovers, and their voices haunted him as he went, but he had chosen his path. He could feel the anger of the goddess behind him, and knew she watched him go, but he did not let that slow his steps. Instead, he stared forward, into the future he would make with his own hands._

 _He had work yet to do._

* * *

Simon woke up to the feeling of a wet tongue lapping at his cheek. "Jus' a little more," he whined, but the unkind tongue lashed against his face and mouth. He wearily batted at the face that was bathing him insistently, but Gina was undeterred, working her way from one ear to the other around the bend of his chin. Simon stubbornly refused to waken, however, as sleep had sunk its talons deep into his brain, and so he settled from rocking his head side to side in a futile attempt to dodge the persistent lashing of her tongue.

"You really should get up, Lover Boy," mocked a familiar voice from nearby. He could hear Sarah's smirk over the rustle of wind and the feeling of flowing power. "My portal will open soon, and you may want to be dressed when my master arrives."

Simon's eyes shot open at the thought of meeting one of the Heroes in the nude, but he immediately regretted his haste, groaning at the piercing brilliance of the dim firelight. He rolled over onto one side, and hesitated there for a moment. The clawed pinch of his exposed lower cheek made him yelp, and he grudgingly rose from the comforting floor and began casting about for his scattered attire.

Moments later, he was fully dressed, swiping fruitlessly at the dried stains on his tunic, less out of concern for the icons emblazoned on it than for the overall effect it had on his appearance. Gina stood at his side, watching the swirling vortex ahead of them warily, and Sarah stood beside that swirling shimmer in the air, which was like a twisting heat mirage that seemed to be circling itself faster and faster. The lich's brow was furrowed with strain, and energy crackled at the core of that midair maelstrom as it grew to reach half Simon's height. Simon glanced around for the staff he had been using, and picked it up; it might make for a good gesture, returning it to its original owner, or so he hoped.

With a whisper that rose towards a roar, the portal spun itself to greater width, swelling until it was nearly tall enough for Simon to step into. In the center, the air had begun to waver, and strange shapes appeared in shadow, as if looking through that ring showed another place instead of the door that led into the library. Arcane light began to flicker around the edges of the portal, and Sarah groaned in exertion as the portal wobbled slightly, almost losing its shape.

Suddenly, however, the ring of energy stabilized, and expanded one last time. For just a moment, Simon could see through to stone walls and shadows, but what captured his attention was the form stepping into and through the portal: a knight in full armor, sword at his side. The figure was masculine and imposing, though the armor did not look like anything a member of the Orders would wear, decorated with figures of beasts and warriors. As Simon watched, the knight stepped through the portal, then turned to extend a hand back into the vortex. Someone on the other side took that hand, and he pulled her through, revealing her to be a woman also clad in armor, with flowing cerulean hair.

The pair of newcomers glanced around the room, but the male knight locked onto Simon almost immediately, staring at the despoiled insignia decorating his tabard. Simon stared, slack-jawed, as the man drew his sword in one smooth motion and stepped forward, too surprised to think of protecting himself. That hesitation was nearly fatal, as the knight levelled the blade at his neck and began to swing.

"Stop!" shouted a voice from behind the pair from the portal, and Sarah dashed in front of Simon, her arms spread wide, as Gina shoved him to the side. Sarah winced away from the sword, which had only barely slowed its progress, but the blade stopped long before it could reach her.

"Sarah?" echoed a voice from within the helmet. "Sarah Wulfe, is that you?" The knight sheathed his sword as abruptly as he had drawn it, and reached up with both hands to grasp his helmet. The casque slid free to reveal a man that looked barely older than Simon, with messy brown hair, wide brown eyes, and a nose that was a touch too large for the rest of his face. That face was immediately familiar to Simon, who had seen a younger version of it on the painting upstairs, and his mouth dropped at that confirmation of his suspicions. "I thought it was you I felt summoning me, but it's been nearly a hundred years! I've been worried about you ever since you sent that other girl using the teleportation rune I left you."

Sarah beamed up at the man, and for a second Simon felt something akin to jealousy, as irrational as it was. "Well, if you had come back here like you were supposed to, then it wouldn't have been so long. Father always believed you would be back someday, but neither of us thought it would take this long!"

The other man laughed, a tad uncomfortably, and scratched the back of his head. "Trust me, it wasn't planned. I'll tell you what happened another time; it's not a great story." His eyes peered over her shoulder at Simon. "But, ah… who's your guest?" His dark eyes glinted like stone as he regarded the younger man.

"Oh, don't worry about him, he's mine," Sarah proclaimed. She glanced back at Simon with a smile before her words reached her brain, and her cheeks darkened immediately. "I mean, he's my… He's a…"

"I'm Simon Hopkins, and this is Gina," Simon interrupted, saving her the embarrassment of continued speech. "I'm an ex-Inquisitor, and I'm with them."

The other man glanced from Gina to Sarah, and a broad grin spread across his face. "Let me tell you, I like that 'ex' part. I'm, ah, not the biggest fan of the Orders." At his side, the statuesque woman with the vividly-blue hair rolled her eyes subtly at the understatement. "I take it you're the reason Sarah summoned me?"

"Something like that," Simon admitted. "We were hoping to find a way to get to the east, away from the church, but the Lector I used to serve has taken two of my friends hostage. We were hoping you could help us save them. Oh, and this is yours, I believe." Simon bowed his head as he extended the staff towards the other man.

The armored man pushed the staff back towards Simon. "I'm afraid Liar's Tongue isn't much good to me these days. But, since you're a friend of Sarah's, why don't you hold on to it?" He offered Simon a grin and extended his gauntleted hand. "I'm John Foster, and this is my partner Ceann." The woman beside him bowed gracefully. "If you're having a problem with the Orders, we would be glad to help."

Simon stepped forward to grasp John's hand, and shook it firmly. He smiled at the other man, fighting down the giddiness threatening to explode from him. Now, standing before a literal Hero, he believed that they had a chance to make things right, to save Mary and Charles and themselves. Everything they had gone through had led to this, and now they just had to take the final steps to freedom.

"The Lector that has my friends… he will probably burn them at the stake. He will probably do it at dawn in the center of town." Simon looked around at his friends and the two newcomers. "We will have to move fast. He has to be stopped."

"We don't have much time, then. The night is almost over," John responded, and his smile was eager like bared steel. "Let's talk as we go."

Above the mountain, the night was beginning to brighten towards daybreak, even as the five raced to the service tunnels that led towards Videre, and towards the pyres that were already being built.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _This chapter took a little longer than expected, although in my defense it 'is' a little longer than expected. Only two chapters yet remain, and the main action will be in the next, just as it was in the last story. Along with that, I will also post the synopsis for the third longer story in this arc, which I will confess is a different sort of experiment: an interwoven tale with several different protagonists, all coming together for the grand finale. If you are curious, look forward to the next chapter!_

 _I will hope to release that chapter a week from today, although bear with me if it takes longer; when I began this work, the chapters were in the upper teens in page length, but the past few have been creeping closer to double that with each release. There is much that needs resolved in this coming chapter, so wish me luck in tackling it all..._

 _As always, thanks for reading. I enjoy the responses I get from this writing, and hope I've captured your attention enough that you look forward to all that is still to come. I shall return soon with more!_

 _Of course, that is, after a little bit of sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	14. Salvation

"I'm… I'm sorry…"

Simon fell against the wall beside him, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay upright. His lungs burned in his chest as sweat trickled down his brow and back, and it took all his withered willpower to keep himself from collapsing to the floor. Distantly, he knew he was pushing himself beyond exhaustion. With all that had happened, it was all but impossible to think that just a day ago, he had been in bed with Gina in Mr. Kramer's inn. That day had included his infiltration of the monastery, his discovery of the laboratory and Sarah, his two escape attempts, his confrontation with George, and his passion with Sarah and Gina. His brief slumber while Sarah had cast her summoning spell was hardly enough for his body to recover from such constant exertion.

But he had to keep moving. He knew that Lector Themras wouldn't hesitate to condemn Mary and Charles Kramer to the flames for helping him and Gina, and he would not allow that to happen. After he and the others had left the laboratory, they had passed through the fallen door into the service tunnels that George and the mercenaries had pursued Gina through. Those sharply-inclined passages wove back and forth through the mountain's bowels, past storage chambers and natural caverns with walls glimmering with leyfluid. Simon didn't know how far they had come, or how far they had left to go, but morning had to be swiftly approaching, and they didn't have time to wait for him to rest.

Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself off the wall, but a furred paw against his chest arrested him immediately, and he looked up into Gina's concerned eyes. He forced a smile onto his lips despite the flaring agony in his legs, trying to move her arm away even as he leaned into it. "I'm okay now," he lied, but she stared at him intently, refusing to let him pass. Nodding to herself, she turned, squatting before him and leaning forward. Simon looked at her dumbly, not understanding her intention, and she glanced back at him insistently.

"She's offering to carry you," Sarah explained, her usual sarcasm absent from her voice as she stared at him analytically. "You're exhausted; you should take her up on it. We might need you in decent shape when we meet your fanatical friend."

Simon shook his head, fighting to stay upright. "We might need her, too," he countered. Sarah's eyes narrowed at his stubbornness, and Gina refused to rise from her spot in front of him.

"We don't have time for this." Beside them, the armored figure of John Foster sighed and reached for a pouch at his waist. He withdrew a thick vial full of a dark fluid, and extended it towards Simon. "Drink this, it will help."

Simon took the vial with a grateful nod, yanking free the stopper. He was too tired to ask about its sharply-pungent contents, too exhausted for curiosity. Instead he tilted his head back and forced the fluid to drain down his throat, trying not to taste it. In that, at least, he failed, and he smacked his lips as he squinted his eyes against the cocktail of combating flavors, none of which he especially appreciated. He held the drained vial, stopper back in place, towards the other man with a wince.

John laughed at his reaction. "Don't worry, you'll be thankful for it soon enough. It's a little something I had an alchemist ally of mine brew up for me. It'll make you feel like you've had a solid night's sleep, at least for a few hours, but it'll knock you out afterwards. Just, ah, don't ask about the ingredients."

Simon's eyes narrowed at that. "What are the ingredients?" he asked defiantly. Despite his concern, the other man's words were true: already, he could feel new vitality flowing into his muscles, and his mind was clearing. The earthy taste lingered in his mouth, however, filling him with a distracting dread at the thousand possibilities for its origins.

John only laughed in response. "Let's go!" he shouted, jogging on down the tunnels. His teal-haired partner chased after him, leaving Simon and the other two girls alone. Simon shared a grateful smile with both of them before they set off after the two armored forms descending into the shadows. This time, Simon did not fall behind, his body finally able to keep up with his racing anxiety.

After a while, the tunnels began to expand, and Simon took that as a sign that they were nearing the exit. "So, you said that your old boss has your friends. How many more soldiers does he have?" John shouted back to Simon.

"It should be just one Purifier; he's a friend of mine that…" Stumbling over the complexity of that relationship, Simon sighed. "He's a good person, just misled."

At John's side, the elegant armored woman glanced over at her partner, who frowned at that news. "We'll subdue him until we can free your other friends," she promised, eyeing the dark frown on John's face. "Don't worry." John said nothing, his eyes narrowed.

"Sarah said you used to be a warlock. Do you know a spell that could help us sneak past the Lector, or restrain him until we are away from Videre?" Simon asked as they passed into a larger room. Now, Simon could feel a chill breeze, and the air tasted fresher. Soon enough his suspicions were proven correct as they exited out into a natural cavern, passing a disguised door that had been left ajar. A few steps more saw them under the open sky, and ahead was the familiar dark woods that ringed Videre. Simon's heart clenched as he noticed that the heavens above had taken on a brighter hue, violet being chased westward by deep reds.

"About that," the man at the head of their party responded regretfully. "I know many spells that could, but… I'm not much use these days in a magical conflict. It's complicated, but I can't use much of my mana without paying a heavy price, and I didn't have any leycrystals on hand when I was summoned." The former hero glanced back to Simon with a grimace. "I can hold my own with a sword – I had a good teacher – but if it comes to a duel of spells, we're going to have to rely on you and Sarah."

Simon's throat tightened painfully at that declaration. His confidence in their chances plummeted with that admission, and he couldn't even muster his mind to wonder at how John's loss of power could have come to pass. He worried at his chances against Lector Themras, even with his newfound aptitude with arcane magic, and he definitely did not want Sarah to have to face his former master, especially since she probably didn't have much mana left after summoning John and Ceann. Still, he forced his mind past such concerns as Videre came into sight. It would all work out; at this point, it would have to, or they would lose more than he could imagine.

The shadowed buildings ahead were iced with morning brilliance seeping down their roofs, but the windows remained black, and the heart of the town seemed unnaturally still. Simon didn't know how the townspeople would react to the sight of Gina, Sarah, or the newcomers, but he hoped they would stay out of the conflict. At the least, Themras's bitter nature had made him no friends during their stay, which was to their advantage. Still, Simon wasn't prepared to fight innocents, and he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Simon pressed himself to the fore of the group, his legs pumping. "The town square is this way," he called back, and ran for the nearest row of houses. Just to the side, he could see the inn that he had called home for the past week, and the stables where he had first met Gina. Those buildings were cloaked in shadow from the forests, but the sight of them brought Simon a new determination, and he forced himself onward despite the burning in his lungs. He owed the Kramers a debt, not just for Gina but for how this past week had changed him, and he couldn't stop until-

Simon stumbled to a halt as a piercing whistle ended in a sharp thump as an arrow sprouted from the earth just in front of him. He stared in shock at the quivering fletchings, spreading his arms wide to warn those behind him, who trotted to a stop at his back. Simon's eyes searched the shadows for any sign of the archer, remembering suddenly the staff he held at his side. Before he could visualize the spellsign for his protective magic, however, he watched as a darkened form detached itself from one of the buildings nearby and stepped closer. He noticed the arrow nocked in the bow that person held before he noticed the golden gleam in his eyes, but it was the latter discovery that made Simon's heart sink the most, especially as the look on George's face was revealed as he walked into the morning light.

"Simon, turn back," the Purifier commanded. "You don't want to see what comes next. Mary wouldn't want you to be there."

"Is that what the Lector ordered you to say?" Simon responded angrily.

"No, he ordered me to bring you to him." George scowled at the figures behind Simon, but his arrow didn't waver from the person at their fore. "Just you."

"We're here to save them, George. Get out of the way." Simon could feel his magic surging within him, as if in response to his tumultuous emotions. He knew, if he let it go, he could force his way past George, and that they didn't have time for this distraction. Distantly, however, he still had to hope his friend could be convinced, could see the right way forward.

"You can't save anyone, Simon. Run away, and make it harder for me to hunt you. Live as long as you can." George stared relentlessly at his former friend, and the bowstring creaked as he drew it back further, an unspoken threat. "That's all I can give you. They chose their fate, and I guess you did the same."

"We need to hurry," John hissed at Simon's back. "Step out of the way and let me take care of him."

Simon didn't move. "George, this is wrong, and deep down you know it. I am fighting to save lives, just like the heroes we both look up to. This isn't about punishment, this is murder, and you are better than that." Lowering his staff, he extended his free hand towards his friend. "Come with us, and I'll show you why I chose this path. I'll show you the lies and the truth, all of it. You don't want to hurt anyone, and what I'm offering you is a way to avoid that."

The arrow dipped earthward, but only slightly. "Simon, I…" George hissed under his breath, looking bitterly to the side, but the arrow straightened. "I can't. This is what I was trained for. You've sided with monsters! What would the Heroes say about that?"

Simon glanced back towards John, who wore a wry smile. Before he could speak, however, another voice rang out. "Very well, then." Simon turned as Ceann strode confidently past him. The teal-haired woman walked directly towards George, who turned his bow to aim at her. "If you seek to be a hero, then I am your best option."

"Stay back, Simon is the one I want. Don't come any-"

Ceann was still a distance from the Purifier, but she was unfazed by the arrow pointing straight towards her heart. She drew her blade, and it blazed with a violet light as she flourished it dramatically. "If you seek a worthy opponent, then I am the one you want. I am the daughter of Na'amah, the personal guardian of the Demon Queen herself. My sire is the greatest swordsman known to both man and monster, and he was my teacher from my youngest days. I am Ceann Alpestria, the Lady of the Blade, and it would be great honor to fall to my sword!" The tip of her blade pointed directly at George, who stood transfixed by her speech and dramatic gesticulations.

Simon could hear John hiss behind him. "Damn it, Ceann, last time you nearly-"

In the brightening light, Simon could see George nervously lick his lips, and a bead of sweat dripped down the monster hunter's brow as he nodded. "Fine," he muttered, too low to be clearly heard, "This is fine. This is…" His widened eyes flicked over to Simon. "Alright. Watch me, Simon. See how a true hero fights!" He tossed his bow to the side and pulled his sword from its scabbard, holding it before himself in a ready position.

Ceann spared a single glance at the others. "Go, now," she demanded, before turning her attention towards George. She slipped into a ready stance, waving him forward, and with a resounding yell he accepted her challenge, charging towards her. They met with a ringing clash, their swords singing as the blades twisted in arcs, back and forth, in and out. Their feet sent morning dew splashing off the grass as they pirouetted around each other, lost instantly in their battle.

"We need to go, Simon," Sarah prompted urgently. Simon winced at that, but nodded, his eyes still locked on the embattled pair. He could hardly tell who was faring better; Ceann was definitely more skilled, her blade weaving fluidly like a dancer's arm, but George's fervor drove him onward, and he could see the armor-clad woman shudder under the force of some of the Purifier's strikes. It took all his willpower to pull himself away from watching the fight, and he didn't know who he was more worried for as he glanced one final time back at them.

The remaining four sprinted past, John cursing under his breath as they ran, hesitant to leave his partner behind. Still, they dashed through the silent town, hastening towards the open area at its heart. Simon noticed that even the shouting and ringing steel had not stirred any of the townsfolk from their beds, and that fact pricked at his nerves, but he didn't allow himself a chance to worry about that. He didn't have time, because in the eastern skies he could see the faint pinks of dawn about to break over the mountains, and just ahead was the clearing of the town square.

They arrived to discover the twin pyres. Just as it had been for Father Wulfe, Mary and Charles Kramer stood tied to poles, kindling heaped below the wooden platforms they stood upon. Their heads were lowered, and they didn't even look up as their rescuers-to-be ran into the town square. Other than them, the plaza was abandoned, and for just a moment Simon dared to hope that they would be able to free them and escape before they were discovered.

"Ah, how punctual." Simon's heart sank as he heard the contented praise, the familiar baritone voice scraping against his nerves like salt on an exposed wound. Exhaling once to compose himself, Simon turned to face Lector Themras. The older man stood behind them in the center of the town's main avenue, his entire body glowing with an inner light that was painful to look at. Nowhere was that light more intense than the gleam in his eyes, but far worse was the madness that cavorted behind that glow. "It simply would not do for you to be late to your own execution, and so I thank you for your promptness. Sloth, is, after all, the enemy of good works."

"Good works?" Simon faced the priest directly. "Like murder?" He motioned back towards the two figures strapped to poles behind him. "They are innocent, Themras. I have come to set them free."

"With monsters at your side? You, child, are blinded by your sin. You have chosen heresy over faith, and you presume to lecture me on innocence?" Despite his words, the smile did not leave Themras's face, and the man looked like nothing more than a cat crouched over a mouse with a broken spine. "What I give to those blighted souls is a mercy, compared to the torment they have earned. You may also be so fortunate, if you choose: simply kneel and repent, and help me purge these monsters. Then we can discuss your own penance."

Simon's laugh was short and bitter. "Yeah, I think I'll pass." He glanced back at the trio behind him, indicating with his eyes the pair tied to poles behind them. They read his meaning well enough, edging away toward the pyres while he turned back towards the mad priest. He only hoped he could distract the Lector long enough for them to free Mary and Charles so they could all make their escape. To that end, he stepped towards the older man, his staff tapping against the dawnlit stones as he came. Lector Themras still stood in the shadows cast by a nearby building, but the harsh brilliance radiating from his skin made him stand out like a lonely candle in a deep cavern. "No one has to die here today. Let us go in peace, and you will not ever see any of us again."

"You are right about that," Themras acceded, nodding his head magnanimously. "After today, I will never have to see any of you again. Today is all that matters, and I – and these people – will all watch you suffer for your hideous crimes." He spread his arms wide, and from the darkness of Videre the shadows shambled forth. Simon froze in place as he watched the townsfolk shuffle forward stiffly, their bodies limp accept for their mechanical strides, a dull golden gleam shining in their eyes. "I have called the populace forth to witness this purifying ceremony, and they will all be enlightened by your end. Take relief in that, Simon; your martyrdom will bring these poor souls back to the proper path, for fear of sharing your torturous end."

Simon's stomach churned at that piteous sight, but not just out of sympathy for the unfortunate townsfolk, controlled and moved like puppets by the cruel Lector. He knew how much power it would take to cast a spell like that on one or two people, but dozens of citizens thronged the streets. And that was the worst of it: as Simon watched, every avenue and path was blocked by the mindslaved populace, leaving no easy route of escape for him and his friends. This complicated his plans, and Simon forced himself to talk, to buy himself time to think of a way to get past the teeming crowd.

"Themras, you speak of enlightenment, but what you really preach is lies. I have seen proof with my own eyes that the Heroes weren't as you tell us. How much have you hidden, for your own purposes? How much history have you and men like you rewritten to blind us from the truth?" Simon scowled at the other man, pouring his own frustrations into his words.

Lector Themras shook his head with paternal indulgence. "Ah, my boy, you misunderstand. What you call 'lies' are only for your protection; the words of the priesthood are like the warnings that parents give to their children. What matters is the result, that you are saved from iniquity and corruption, not the veracity of every single word. We would rather shepherd you to safety, than let be led astray by that truth which you cannot comprehend."

"So, you think people are too stupid for the truth, and you rely on that to stay in power." Simon shook his head in disgust. "This is all for your own benefit, no matter what lies you've told yourself." He glanced back towards his friends, who had managed to reach the two strapped to the poles and were tearing at their bonds. "I promise you, I will make sure people know the truth about the Heroes, about monsters. About you."

"I will give you a chance for that, then," Lector Themras offered generously, glancing towards the east as dawn broke over the mountains. "You can scream it as you burn. But, first…" He glanced past Simon towards those atop the pyres. "Let us see how your convictions fare once you see their rewards." He raised his crozier, inclining it towards the kindling. Several lights appeared above his head, simmering as they danced, seething with golden flame. As Simon watched, they lengthened into spears, and the Lector smiled at the oblivious trio working to free Charles and Mary. "This is a whole new day, and it's the last you will see."

The flaming lances, modified _Spears of Contempt_ , flew forward inerrantly, crossing the town square in an instant. They would have pierced into the stacked wood, setting it ablaze in an instant, flaring to life and devouring those above. Would have, if not for the shimmering blue barrier that sprang into existence as Simon slammed his staff onto the ground. "I'll die before I let men like you hurt those I love," Simon proclaimed, glowering at the mad priest as he held the staff out before him. His arcane shield gleamed in the morning light, forming a long wall between him and the Lector.

"At last, we find common ground." Themras's smile bared his teeth. Simon swallowed audibly as a dozen more spheres of light formed over the Lector's head, followed by a dozen more, ominous constellations being born and aiming directly at the lone man in front of the priest. "You can die knowing you failed them."

Simon opened his mouth to reply, but the Lector unleashed his assault before he could utter a word. Simon's heels dug into the ground as he was pushed back, his head aching sharply as he felt instantly weakened by the absolute fusillade of holy magic. The Lector's shots rang out in a thundering cacophony as they exploded against Simon's barrier, which flickered spasmodically as the onslaught continued to pound it without pause. Simon thrust his staff forward, locking the spellshape in his mind, pouring every bit of his willpower into maintaining the shield. After a while, he heard the Lector's laughter as the barrage continued, drowned out a moment later by a defiant screaming. It took him a while to realize that shout came from his own throat.

Simon collapsed to a knee as he panted for breath, spots swimming in front of his eyes as his ears rang with the sudden silence. He could feel the blood coursing through his skull, and it took all he had to cling to his staff, which felt warm in his hand. He finally managed to turn his eyes upward to look to Themras, who stood unfazed and unfatigued, smiling with cold, angelic grace at his former subordinate. "Impressive," he cruelly saluted Simon, taking a step forward. "Your depraved devotion is an example to all of your wretched kind, I'm sure. Maybe they will tell stories about how you stood here… and how you fell. Well, they would, if any of your friends would survive to flee, but that isn't going to happen."

"Simon! They're loose! We just need…" Sarah's voice died away as she looked at the Lector, her jaw dropping in despair as she watched dozens more spheres of burning light appear all around the gloating clergyman. These spread out, forming a line a dozen feet across, spreading out wider than Simon's shield. Meanwhile, the captive townsfolk lurched forward, spreading their arms wide, forbidding any attempt at escape.

"Ah, but please, would you deprive this man of his chance for glory?" Lector Themras extended a hand towards Simon. In front of him, a larger sphere of energy appeared, a more powerful spell than any he had launched at his opponent thus far. "Would you strip him of his chance for martyrdom?"

Simon closed his eyes. He knew what the Lector intended. If he expanded his barrier enough to protect his friends against all of the lesser spells, then the _Bolt of the Wrathful_ would pierce straight through his barrier, and into him. He was being forced to choose between his friends, or his own life. Simon's hand brushed against the journal in his pocket, and he climbed to his feet with a smile. That wasn't a choice at all. With a wave, his barrier shimmered as it expanded, spreading wide enough that none of the priest's shots could go around it, and he met Themras's gaze with a contented smile. If this was how he was to die, then at least he would die to make a real difference. Not that he intended to die, of course, but if he had to… he was ready.

"Farewell, Simon Hopkins. You've earned your place in whatever hell you find yourself in, but don't worry," the Lector reassured him. "You'll soon have your friends for company."

The barrage began anew, and dozens of bolts dashed themselves against his shield with suicidal intensity. Once more, Simon dug his boots into the earth, concentrating against the strain of upholding his protective barrier even as blows came at it from every direction, arcing and snaking in different directions. The magic flickered like a dying candle, but with a roar that made his throat ache, Simon forced it to stay up through mere willpower. He couldn't see clearly as sweat dripped into his eyes, but he believed he could see that the Lector's floating armaments well all but spent, save for that final shot, which was now bloated to the size of his head – and then it, last of all, speared forward, and shattered Simon's shield like a stone through glass.

Simon's feet left the earth as he felt the breath rush from him, and he stared up at the heavens above as he came to a rest. Pain blasted all thoughts from his head, though he could hear, distantly, three female voices screaming his name, and he wished he could tell them not to worry. He wished he could say anything at all. He wished he could breathe.

The ground was cold, and Simon's lungs burned as the heavens swam around his head. He fought not to close his eyes, and his rebellious hand strayed with grim curiosity towards the source of radiating pain that made him want to vomit. He cringed as he felt the singed edges of his tabard, burned away over his ribs. At least he wouldn't have to wear that hateful insignia anymore. Simon coughed, and it wracked him with agony, and his hand fell against his chest where the magic had struck. Against his bruised, sore, yet whole skin.

Simon sat up, looking with shock at the place where his chest should have been burnt away. He knew that the Lector's magic should have pierced through him with enough power to exit the other side. However, though he could already see bruises down to the bone and he wondered if his ribs had fractured from the force, the magic had spent itself without leaving his chest a smoking ruin, and he was far too surprised yet for gratitude. As if not believing his eyes, he touched his own chest once more, and that was when he noticed the sigil glowing incandescently on his left hand: the outline of an owl, the mark of Athena.

He was not the only one shocked by his survival. "How far have you fallen, Simon?" Themras bellowed, his previous façade of gentility washed away by his rage, his livid face reddening to the same hue as his beard. "What did you sacrifice for such a vile, tainted blessing that could shield you from my sacred magic?"

Simon climbed back to his feet, conscious of the furred paws and pale hands helping him upright but not turning his attention away from the ranting priest ahead of him. He could feel the presence of his friends at his back, all of them including the Kramers, and that gave him the strength he needed to step forward with grim determination, his eyes challenging Themras without hesitation. He pointed his staff forward once more, breathing heavily but not wavering, and the glimmer of his magic appeared between them once more. Simon knew he had almost nothing left, but that didn't stop him.

Simon's wordless defiance left Lector Themras trembling with rage, and he raised his staff high. "It won't be enough to save you," the priest swore, spit flecking his beard. "I won't stop, until you and all your kind are burned from this world. I will spend my life committing every monster, every weak-spirited man and woman, to the flame, and there is nothing you can do to stop me!"

Simon Hopkins nodded in calm acceptance as he glanced to the deep shadows behind Lector Themras. "There is nothing I can do, yes, not alone," he admitted, his words almost drowning out the rattle of chains. "She might be a different story."

"Who-!" Themras glanced to his side as his crozier shook in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the dark chain wrapped around its shaft, but he didn't have time to give voice to his fury before the staff was ripped from his grasp. The divine light surrounding him flared as he turned, eyes blazing in outrage, but as he gazed into the shadows his face fell. He didn't have time to protect himself as a wave of chains erupted from the darkness, coiling themselves instantly around his limbs and torso, yanking him from the ground and holding him aloft. His enraged roars said plenty despite their wordlessness, and immediately a handful of brilliant spheres of light appeared above his head.

This time, however, his assault was countered instantly. A dozen of the chains formed a tight sphere around him, and the gaps between them were lit with a gleaming intensity, a swirling haze of reds, purples, and oranges that Simon had come to associate with Pandemonium's fell energies. As the Lector's magical lances darted forward, they exploded against that barrier, which did not show any strain from the collision. Themras did not relent, spending shot after shot, each of which died in spectacular pyrotechnics contained entirely within the field outlined by the chains. The air vibrated with concussive bursts as the priest switched to _Bolts of the Wrathful_ , but even these heavier explosions did nothing to the constraining globe that had devoured Themras. The priest refused to surrender, even as the brilliant light around him begin to dim, his skin losing its divine glow as he spent his power in impotent fury.

While Themras unleashed everything he had into his restraints, Simon stared into the darkness that the chains had emerged from. He wasn't surprised to see the shadowed form emerging into the dawn's light, but he did force himself to conceal his anxiety. "Hello, Sophia. Thanks for your help."

"Anything for you, my darling," the dark priestess smiled as she stepped into the light. She looked just as she had the previous night, her illusions foregone in favor of her natural appearance and skimpier attire. Her smile towards Simon was predatory and hungry, but he stood his ground, his head inclined, and his barrier hung in the air interposed between them. "Forgive me, but I must see to this man first. Please," her violet eyes sparked dangerously, "don't think of going anywhere just yet."

"Release me, witch!" commanded the struggling priest, who had fallen to trying to pry the chains from his body with his fingers. The serpentlike bonds toyed with him, allowing him to grasp their links before yanking him back spread-eagle, defeating his every effort to free himself, physical and magical. "You will burn for this! I will see you writhe as you collapse into ash, and I won't even do you the mercy of stepping on your fragile neck!"

Sophia glanced up at the suspended man with disdain, her face contorted as if she had just smelled fresh sewage. "Such arrogance. Did you really believe you could provoke a goddess and escape unscathed? Did you think your stolen divine power was a match for the real thing? There is nothing you can do to free yourself from Her grasp. I descended the mountain as much to apprehend you as to retrieve Simon, though that is the only thing in common between you." Her lips twisted in a bitter smile. "Soon enough, you will be someone else's problem, and I wish them the patience of stone."

Themras's face purpled in apoplectic outrage. "What do you mean, you defiled harlot? What could you possibly do to-"

Sophia's words were as cold and sharp as broken ice. "You stand bold when you have your armies and your fire at your back, but how firm will your faith be in the face of the truth? How long can you cling to words even you know are lies, when all hope of retribution is taken from you? When surrender is sweeter than your obstinance, when will you give in?" She met his eyes and smiled insolently at his helplessness. "When your faith is broken and stripped from you, what will remain of you?"

"You really shouldn't have said that," came a murmur from across the plaza. Simon's face fell as he heard her words, and he held out his arms to keep his friends safely back from what would come next. He knew the Lector better than she did, and there was only one thing that man would do in the face of inescapable capture, something he would choose before he admitted he was powerless.

Lector Themras was silent for a long moment, staring at her with chilling intensity, but she did not look away. Finally, shattering the silence of the square like a snapping bone, Lector Themras began to howl with laughter. This, at last, discomfited the proud priestess below him, who glanced to Simon for understanding, but the younger man only lowered his head and looked away. When she turned back to Themras, she jumped in shock at the rekindled light in his eyes and the glow emanating from his skin. He leaned towards her, leering, as he laughed his defiance, even when the golden flames emerged from his skin. Too late, Sophia realized that she had trapped his power within the field, but that didn't diminish it, and now he unleashed it upon the only target he had. Before she could think of anything to do, the flames burst forth, racing across his holy vestments, licking up his beard and hair, burning his eyes from the inside out. The fire consumed Themras like dry grass, filling the town square with the unsettling fragrance of seared meat and an unnatural heat, as the selfmade martyr howled with laughter that rang out long past when it should have been possible, past the point when Lector Themras ceased to be a man. Its taunting echoes hung in the air even as the ashen remains crumpled and fell to the bottom of the containment field. Sophia stared at them for a moment before recalling her chains, looking away in disgust as the wind captured the ashes and scattered them, the mad priest's final insane victory dance swirling across the plaza until he dissipated into disquieted memory.

As one, all around the courtyard, the inhabitants of Videre that Themras had controlled collapsed to the stones at their feet. They lay as though sleeping, as unconscious as Mary and Charles Kramer had been when Simon and his friends had entered the town square. Now, however, those two stood behind Simon, eyeing the dark priestess warily, while Sarah and Gina stepped forward, placing themselves between the young man and the woman now watching him with hungry eyes. Beside Simon, John stood with his sword in hand, a frown creasing his brow as he shared a look with the man holding his old staff. None of them rested despite Themras's demise; if anything, they all knew that this development only heralded the second phase of their battle.

Sophia frowned as she noticed the ragged hole in Simon's shirt, and the darkened skin underneath. Her head shook as she shot a hateful glance towards the ashen stain where Themras had fallen before looking back empathetically to Simon. "I'll heal you when we arrive in Pandemonium," she promised him with a faint smile. "You will never feel an ache from what he did to you."

"Thanks," Simon acknowledged with a bowed head, "but I'm not going to Pandemonium."

He tensed as he heard the rattle of chains, and Sophia smiled indulgently at him. "Oh, yes, you are. Mother is waiting for you, and She will not accept 'no' for an answer." Sophia spread her arms wide, stepping even closer to Simon, her eyes locked upon his relentlessly. "You shall take your place with me at Her side, and together we shall make Her dreams of paradise a reality. You will be as a saint to our followers, and together we shall discover new wisdoms, new joys – a perfect existence for you and me." Her eyes narrowed slightly as they flicked between the two girls interposing themselves between her and the object of her desire, before her head turned towards the person walking into the open plaza. "I will even see your friends to safety, somewhere far away from harm."

Simon followed her gaze to discover Ceann limping towards him, the bulky form of George slung over one of her pauldrons. George was still, but blood tickled in a line from the raised knot on his skull. The victor of their fight looked a little better, but a gash along one of her greaves showed that the Purifier had put up a strong resistance. Seeing his friend alive brought a relieved sigh to Simon's lips, but he tensed as he turned back towards Sophia, who now extended a hand out towards him with a gentle smile.

"Come to me, my love. I shall show you happiness, and I will promise that all of your friends will be safe far from here before any of these villagers even stir from their slumber. Surely," she paused, biting her lip with a faint tremble, "a blissful eternity with me is a small price to pay for their freedom?"

Simon swallowed through a tight throat. Sophia wasn't directly threatening his friends, but she was offering him a chance to do what he had already been doing: an opportunity to sacrifice himself for those he loved. He couldn't support the future that Sophia and her goddess believed in, but he knew he had nearly lost Mary, Sarah, and Gina this day, not to mention his own life. If he accepted, if he just nodded, then they would all be safe…

"Sorry, miss," interrupted another voice. Everyone turned to look at John, who was spreading his hands in a helpless shrug. "I know the rules you monsters follow. I'm afraid those two have beaten you to the punch, as it were." He nodded towards Sarah and Gina. "Maybe you can find another man to martyr himself to your loins."

"I have a prior claim," Sophia responded, her lips twisting as she looked away from the fading sigil on Simon's hand to the armored man. "But, now that you call my attention, I recognize you. John Foster, the Twice-cursed 'Hero.'" Her eyes glanced downwards, past his waist. "Or should I say 'Thrice-cursed?'" Her smile was sharply cruel as she looked on his face again. "I know you, and all your failures, and that is a spectacularly long list."

"I _did_ help kill a god. Did your goddess tell you about that one?" Sophia all but snarled at his rebuttal. "Anyways, if you know my history, you should understand that I'm tired of watching friends sacrifice themselves for the greater good, so I really don't intend to let you make off with him."

Simon smiled at that. "Did I just get compared to the Priest and the Holy Martyr?" he asked Sarah in a giddy offhanded whisper.

The lich looked at him with rolling eyes. "Let's save that talk for later, alright?" She huffed as she turned her attention back to the conflict. "We really don't have time for me to explain that one."

"So, why don't you just hop a portal back to your little sex dimension, and-"

"Enough." Sophia's hands balled into fists, and her chains slithered out of the shadows, edging closer to the faint sheen of Simon's weakened barrier. "He is coming with me. He is _mine_ , and there is nothing you can do to stop us from leaving together."

John glanced over to the others, and the regret in his eyes was an instant concern for those watching the verbal bout. "I really hope this works, but just… be ready," he warned in a tense whisper. "Fine, then," he began, stepping closer, his voice raising to take on the tones of a formal command. "By the blood we shed together, by the pain we endured together…" He stared defiantly at the dark priestess, his body tensed, "I invoke the name of Paul Bernard, her chosen champion! He once called me friend, and on that bond I claim this right! Bring your goddess forth, and let me plead my case to her."

All sound died in the air surrounding Videre as every eye stared at John. The color fled from Sophia's face as she gaped at him, eyes wide, lips open, head shaking just slightly. She said nothing for a long minute, but the others could feel the pressure building in the air, the eerie feeling of weight pressing against them. No animal dared cry, no bird was brave enough to sing, as Sophia tilted her head quizzically, looking at John Foster with naked wonder. "You truly have a talent for making things worse, don't you?" she asked. He didn't have a chance to respond as everyone watched her eyes roll back into her head as her body began to shake. Immediately, a vicious wind whipped through Videre, shutters slamming as the clothing of the fallen townspeople whipped, the small party standing before the pyres clutching to each other to keep from being ripped from their feet.

"John!" screamed Ceann, fighting to be heard over the roaring wind. "When this is over, we really need to have a talk about your decisions!"

Simon's breath caught in his throat as he looked back to Sophia to find she had lifted above the ground, floating a foot above the stones without signs of effort. Her chains were gone, but escape was a ludicrous consideration as this impossible tornado fought to pluck them from the earth. He could see the power limning Sophia's form, the mixed hues he knew came from the power of Pandemonium and the Fallen God. When her eyes shot open, the wind stilling instantly, they were filled with the same energy, which shot forth like light beaming from a mirrored lantern.

" _Kneel_."

None of the watching figures had the chance to think. Their bodies listened to those words before transmitting them to their brains, dropping to their knees without an instant of hesitation. Simon saw all of his friends fighting to stand again, even as he noticed the unconscious forms of all the villagers rising to their knees as well, their heads bowed as if in prayer. Simon felt that power pressing into his back, but he shifted on the stones, moving his leg away from a sharp rock stabbing uncomfortably into his shin.

" _You invoked the name of my champion, my beloved Priest?_ " Sophia's body frowned down at John, and his head bent lower towards the ground despite his efforts to rise. " _You absolute fool._ " John's body lifted into the air, limbs extending out in each direction, his head flopping back as he gasped for breath. " _I should pop your wretched head free of your neck for even sullying his name with your hateful tongue. If not for your failures, he would have lived!_ " Simon could hear John gasping for breath, and a glance heavenward showed that the man's neck was denting inward, as if giant fingers pressed on either side. " _Don't speak, I see your insipid thoughts. You think yourself safe from death, because I am a monster?_ " The laughter from Sophia's mouth was dark and bitter. " _I am a god. Such rules mean very little to one who can shape reality, like erasing you from it_."

"Please… please spare-" Ceann's voice died immediately, and her mouth opened and closed fruitlessly as she wordlessly pleaded for her partner.

" _You think to convince me to let this man, my daughter's betrothed, go? What a messenger you chose!_ " John's body floated parallel to the ground now, his arms and legs straight in different directions as if being tugged away from his torso. The muffled groans of agony coming from his mouth suggested that was exactly what was happening. " _You were there! You could have done something to stop Paul from sacrificing himself! You could have found another way!_ " John's body trembled like her voice, and the metal of his armor began to squeal as if it was compressed as if being squeezed by a titanic fist. " _YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED INSTEAD!_ "

"Stop."

The goddess's chosen avatar turned her head slowly, incredulous, to watch the man climbing to his feet. He dusted his knees off, bending to pluck his staff from the stones, before stepping closer towards the girl with the wrathful face. Simon met her gaze with a placid smile, shrugging his shoulders calmly. "Stop, Athena. You're better than this." He stared at her with sad eyes, his hands spread in a gesture of peace.

" _Paul…?_ " The goddess's voice was quiet, and a drop of moisture formed at the corner of one of her blazing eyes.

"Paul is dead. He died because he chose to, out of love. Love for his friends," Simon motioned back towards John, "love for this world… love for you, and all you embody. He understood your pain, and the gifts you bring, and thus he gave himself to save us all from pain." His smile was fragile and sympathetic. "I'm not Paul, and I could never be his replacement. I'm just… Simon. But I understand what he wanted. He wanted to make this world better, and he made his own choice."

The goddess didn't reply, watching him come closer. "I know what you want from me, but you can't have it this way. No, for the same reason I can stand, while they can't: you want me to choose to kneel to you, of my own free will, the way he chose his own fate. You want my devotion, and you can't force that. Not whole-heartedly, because I have my own convictions, my own beliefs. You can't force my choice, just like you couldn't force Paul's." Simon stood before the goddess, and gazing upwards with hope in his eyes. "And I choose to believe this world can be saved."

The floating figure lowered enough for one hand to reach towards his cheek. The fingers reached for him tentatively, as if afraid he would flinch away, but he didn't move, nodding slightly. She stroked his cheek with maternal gentleness, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. " _You're wrong, my child. You don't see what is happening, what they are doing. They will burn… everything._ "

"Not if I can stop them." Simon's eyes hardened as he nodded resolutely. "Give me a chance. Let me do what I can to save… whoever, whatever I can. Allow me one opportunity to show you this world can be redeemed." He lowered himself to one knee, his head bowing. "If I can't, then I will admit you are right. I will come to you, of my own accord, and submit to your will. I…" He glanced back to his friends, and Gina and Sarah nodded in agreement. "…We will find Pandemonium, and no voices will sing your glories louder." He didn't voice his last plea, except in his heart, and he wondered if she heard: ' _Give me a chance to save_ you.'

Silence reigned over Videre for minutes stretched more arduously than the man hovering in the air. With a clatter, he plummeted to the earth like a meteor, no care shown in his graceless landing. " _Three years_ ," the goddess proclaimed, glancing at him. " _Wasn't that how long your journey lasted?_ "

"…yes," groaned the agonized, crumpled form of John Foster.

" _Three years, and then…_ " The goddess spread wide her hands, but her eyes never left the man kneeling at her feet. " _You will come to me, with your eyes open and your wisdom matured, and you shall reign at my side. You shall be my daughter's other half, and together you will complete the great ritual that will turn Pandemonium into an eternal paradise._ " Simon looked up at her gratefully, and her gravity slipped as she returned his smile with matronly indulgence, her hand reaching out once more to stroke his hair. Her eyes blazed intensely, however, as she looked over to the rising form of John. " _And, if anything happens to him during those three years, then I will give you a place in Pandemonium instead. A throne of eternal torment, where you can savor my rage at your failures forevermore._ "

John nodded, rubbing his throat and coughing. "Deal," he managed, his voice scratchy and pained.

Simon looked around him with a broadening smile. He looked at his friends who were smiling at him, and that filled him with happiness. He looked at Gina and Sarah, whose expressions were full of love, and he gave them a smile that proclaimed his love for them in return. He looked around at Videre, where his life had changed, where he had found the truth and uncovered the past, where he had saved himself. He looked at the inn, and the stable, and the mountain that Paul had wanted to see one last time.

"Are you sure about this?" John asked, his voice still coarse. "Three years isn't a long time to save the world."

Simon gave him a bravely confident smile. "You should hear all I've done in the past week."

" _I will be watching. You are my chosen, and you have a great task ahead of you._ "

Simon nodded to her. "I know." He saw the pride in her eyes, the worry and the desperation and the hope. "I'll show you this world is worth the wait."

"Speaking of," John interjected, raising his arms in a placating gesture as the immediately-wrathful goddess turned his way, "We are an awful long way from home, and there are a lot of men with swords and torches between here and there. It might help if you gave your chosen – and the rest of us – a little help on the trip, you know what I mean?"

The goddess scowled at him. " _You really are a tiresome man._ " She looked once last time to Simon as she extended her hand, her middle finger and thumb pressed together, on the brink of a snap. The sound of that snap rang through the town square, and everything changed.

They were gone. It was if they had never been there at all.

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _I will keep this note brief; you've come a long way with me already. I will admit I decided to post this chapter early in honor of Valentine's Day, and to encourage me to hurry to complete the final chapter, which will be shorter, as it serves as something of an epilogue to this tale. There is one last surprise, of course, but such can wait until I return…_

 _I will admit that I am postponing the preview of the next story until then, as well. Mostly because it would reveal certain things about the next chapter, which I hope to avoid. I will, however, reveal that the title is simply to be 'Heroes.'_

 _But, before I succumb to my own wordiness, I will thank you all for making it here, to the penultimate chapter. I hope you have enjoyed the journey thus far, and I shall return soon with the conclusion to this tale. Perhaps, if I am lucky, sooner than you may expect, although I make no promises._

 _Now, however, I shall treat myself to well-earned sleep…_

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


	15. Regenesis

When Simon opened his eyes, he was somewhere else.

The heavens above were considerably brighter than they had been in Videre, and for a moment this made Simon feel dizzy, as though he had just lost hours of time. He didn't spend much time considering this, however, as the sound of construction drew his gaze. From his immediate glance at his surroundings, he – and all of his friends, including the Kramers and the armor-clad John and Ceann, with George slung over her shoulder– stood at the front door of a tall stone tower at the top of a small hill. Spread out below them was a confusing mixture of flamescarred ruins and new construction. All around, people were moving: clearing brush, disassembling moss-covered stonework, hammering nails into new building frames, carrying lumber back and forth. Carts rumbled roughly past, tearing up the grass that had been growing on the roads, battling back nature's process of reclamation. Squatting among the ruins and the building frames were dozens and dozens of tents, temporary homes that spoke more of refugees than native inhabitants, but the voices that Simon could hear told him that these people were more hopeful than defeated, more excited than fearful.

The 'people' spread throughout the town-under-construction were certainly a more diverse group than Simon was accustomed to. Women with the lower bodies of horses pulled carts laden with lumber. A hulking green woman carried a sack of stones over one broad shoulder effortlessly. Ladies with vibrantly-plumed wings called instructions down to men who were digging the foundations of new buildings. Half-sized girls with short horns and brilliantly-colored hair distributed lunch boxes to the workers, human and monster alike, who greeted them with wide smiles and teasing remarks. Everywhere Simon looked, he saw humans and monsters working in unity, and that brought a grin to his face.

"We're home." John Foster looked over the hubbub with obvious pride before turning to Simon and the others. "Welcome to New Haven."

"I've never heard of this place," Simon admitted, and behind him Charles Kramer rumbled his own agreement. He glanced around for any sort of familiar landmark, but the terrain was entirely new to him. Judging from the sun's position, to the west loomed imposing mountains, including a white-capped few that towered over their peers. The nascent township was being built alongside a wide, slow-moving river, and across that venerable stream Simon could see a floodplain that had likely once been fertile farmland, and perhaps would take up that profession once more during the next planting season. Beyond that expanse stood a thick wall of forests, and even further rose rolling hills covered in trees – and above that all was a golden shimmer in the sky, a pale yellow radiance like electric fog. "I-is that…?"

"The Great Veil," John supplied, staring up at the gleaming barrier in the heavens with a smile more tinged with bitterness than Simon's wide-mouthed gape. "Paul's last gift to humanity."

As Simon stared up at that spectacle with nigh-religious amazement, the other members of the party were focused on other things. In particular, Gina's face turned up as she sniffed the air, and she swiveled in place to look down at the milling crowds on the paths below. Even among that varied throng, the woman dressed in attire from the Far East stood out, but Gina's interest was less on the kunoichi than on the person she was accompanying: a girl a few years younger than Gina, with blue hair streaked with blond, even on the lupine ears jutting skyward. The girl's limbs ended in blue-furred paws that stood out against the peach-colored dress she wore, a frilly gown worthy of a noblewoman. Gina started as her eyes locked on that girl, and the kobold darted down the hill towards her with unrestrained eagerness. "Lyra!" she howled as she ran.

Simon whirled towards Gina, his jaw dropped for a whole new reason, and beside him Sarah smirked at his shock. He watched as Gina embraced the girl, mindless of the woman standing beside her with blades at the ready. The kobold and the werewolf were slow to let go of each other, murmuring into each other's ears as Gina picked up Lyra and whirled her around in a hug, both of them wearing smiles that excused the tears trickling down their cheeks.

"She can talk?" Simon asked, his voice cracking.

"Of course she can talk," Sarah replied sardonically. "You didn't know?"

"I mean- I thought she could, but…" Simon's bemused stammering only pleased the lich more. "Wait, is it because she didn't trust me at first, or does she just not speak often? Why-?"

Sarah's attention was diverted elsewhere as she watched John take the unconscious form of George from his partner, staggering under the younger man's weight as he fought to keep the nerveless body from falling to the ground. "I'll see our friend here to the… guest room downstairs," he explained to Ceann, giving her a long glance. "He'll be safe there until he comes around." His eyes flicked to Simon, who was still watching Gina and Lyra down below. "I'm sure we'll have a long talk later to figure out what we need to do with him."

John glanced to the side at the Kramers as he started to carry George into the tower. "Oh, and you are welcome to stay here, as well. I believe Simon said you were an innkeeper?"

Charles nodded, but his hand brushed against his bald pate in embarrassment. "Aye, though I can't say I'm much of one without an inn, and I don't see us returning to Videre any time soon." Beside him, his daughter squeezed his arm in sympathy.

"Well, you may be in luck," John reassured them, motioning to the crowds below with a sweep of his free arm. "All these people are also running from the Orders, and while the town they came from had a few inns, most of the people who ran them took their luck to the west instead. We've already started construction on a large inn of our own - we're hosting a lot of craftswomen from further east to help build the town, and we need a place for them to stay – but we don't have anyone experienced in running one. If you're interested, we can work out a deal on how to divvy out the profits later, at least until you've paid off the construction and land."

Charles stared at the other man with wide eyes. "I… I can't impose on you like that-"

"You'd be doing us a favor, honestly. And you'll have your hands full with your guests, I'm sure." Staggering a bit under George's weight, John nodded again to the overwhelmed innkeeper. "We'll work out the details later, but we would be glad to have you both." With that, Charles and Mary shared hopeful glances as John watched with a rare genuine smile, before lugging George into the tower, the monster hunter's boots dragging against the ground.

The other members of the group were distracted by Gina's return as she guided the werewolf up towards the tower, the kunoichi trailing dutifully behind. She wore a brilliant smile as she looked towards Simon, and she pointed him out as she came. "This is Simon! He's our husband!"

Simon's eyes opened wide, but he grinned despite the surprise. "'Husband?'"

Sarah's jaw dropped as she realized Gina had also been pointing to her, and her cheeks darkened. "'Our?'" She subtly glanced over to Simon, but he caught the movement, and looked to her with a broad grin that, despite herself, she returned.

Simon stepped forward to introduce himself to Lyra, and Sarah joined him. Before their conversation could begin in earnest, however, they were interrupted by the last member of their party, who looked from the kunoichi to the werewolf with widening eyes and paling cheeks. "Forgive me," Ceann interjected, "but the last I had heard, you were still staying in the east at the manor. When did you arrive in New Haven? And…" The teal-haired woman choked slightly on the next words. "Did you come alone?"

Lyra Wulfe smiled brightly at the statuesque woman. "I just arrived an hour or two ago, actually. That is why I wanted to see the town for myself before we settled into our rooms in the tower, and Kama here agreed to go with me. I hope you don't mind us moving into the tower; Mistress Mephis said that we would be staying there for a while."

"Shit!" All the others stared in shock at the blunt profanity from the typically-graceful knight. Ceann had gone utterly white-faced, and she whirled and sprinted for the door to the tower. Even as the door slammed open, the watching group could hear her shouting into the depths of the tower. "John!"

Confused, the group exchanged curious glances, but none of them had any answer for her mysterious behavior. That curiosity quickly fell away as they returned to their earlier discussion, Lyra getting bombarded with the story of their arrival in bits and pieces from Gina and Sarah, with Simon offering a few details here and there. Lyra also turned to Mary and Charles with glee, hugging Mary enthusiastically, and the bespectacled innkeep's daughter embraced her just as eagerly. Everyone had their own story to tell, and they all tried to do it simultaneously, laughing and listening with wide smiles and open hearts, relief and joy radiating from each of them.

Simon stood in the bright light of day with his arm over the shoulders of the two girls that had changed – saved - his life, smiling in contentment as he looked over a place that just might, if he was lucky, be the home he had always wanted. Whether or not they stayed in New Haven, however, Simon knew he had finally found what he had been searching for: a reason to face the next day, and every one after it, with hope and excitement. With his friends, with Gina and Sarah, he would be fine wherever life took him from there. His arm tightened around both girls, and they pressed against him with shared smiles.

Simon looked one more time to the Great Veil in the heavens, and a deep sense of peace settled over him. There had been many sacrifices to reach this point, and the future would have its own battles, but for now what mattered was the people around him. He bowed his head in gratitude, to Paul and Athena and everything that had led him to this moment, and he faced the future with a smile on his face.

* * *

John climbed the stairs of the old tower, yawning as he ascended. He had just deposited the sleeping Purifier in the cells in the tower's basement, where he could stay until they figured out what to do with him. He regretted that the man hadn't been left behind in Videre when they had all been sent here, but he wasn't about to appear ungrateful, especially when the Fallen God had come decidedly close to crumpling him into a ball and throwing him away like refuse. His body still ached from that, especially his left arm, which had not reacted well to her presence, but a nice rest would see to that soreness.

As he entered the next level of the tower, he noticed that Roger Miralis was sitting in his usual place at a nearby table, studying some of his texts on Demon Realm foliage and herbs. At his side lounged the alchemist's orc mate, who greeted him with a nod. "Welcome back, boss," Priscilla offered, bringing the alchemist's attention out of the tome that had engrossed him.

"Oh, Mr. Foster! Your guest is waiting for you in your chambers upstairs, though Ceann has already gone in there," the dark-haired alchemist explained.

John froze in place. "Guest?"

Roger nodded guilelessly. "Yeah, the lady in the white dress-"

"Oh gods." John covered his face with a hand. "And you said Ceann went that way?"

Roger barely had time to nod before John took off for the stairs leading towards his bedchamber without a word, taking the steps two and three at the time. Roger watched him for just a moment before shrugging and turning back to his studies, Priscilla leaning against him contentedly, playing with his hair as he researched new plants for his concoctions.

At the top of the stairs, John burst into his room. He was instantly relieved to see that the two women in his chambers were at opposite ends of the room, though that wasn't enough for him to lower his guard. Ceann, in particular, stood stiffly near the door, her arms crossed before her chest. Her sword was sheathed, but her eyes held edge enough to remedy that as she glared at the other woman in the room, her teeth grinding behind lips set in a tight line.

The other woman sat calmly in a seat beside John's bed, her hands folded demurely in her lap. She was dressed entirely in white, not a single inch of skin bared to the room's dim light. Her face was covered behind a veil hanging from her wide-brimmed hat. Her clothing was decadently embellished, with platinum buckles and fine embroidery and lace hanging from the sleeves, suggesting her to be a lady worthy of any noble court across the land. Even her voice, as she turned to regard John, was refined and elegant, though far from lacking in passion: "Oh, John, my darling, it is so good to see you!" Gloved hands lifted to raise her veil as she stood from her seat. "It has been too long since you left the manor; I simply had to come see you and check on your progress. Everyone has been missing you, the maids in particular." Her voice was warm and thrilling as the veil was tucked back, revealing the pale skin it had hidden, the crimson lips, the blood-red eyes wide and hungry for his face. Her face was soft only in comparison with the sharp angles of her sisters' visages, though the white wings spreading from her lower back and the spade-tipped tail were just like theirs. "I was so disappointed that you were gone when I arrived, but fortune was with me after all!"

John forced a smile onto his face as the lilim drew nearer to him. "Lady Mephistopheles, I'm glad to see you arrived safely. Really, you didn't have to come all this way-"

"Oh, please!" She came even closer, resting one of her hands on his breastplate. "You know you can always call me Meffie, like you did when I was younger. Please don't be so formal, darling," she implored, her red eyes seizing his, "And I wanted to come. It has been nearly a year since that crazy old man took you and… her, and I have been anxious ever since! I had to see for myself that you were safe, especially when you didn't respond to my letters."

John hoped that, in his absence, she hadn't gone through his chest of drawers; that was where he had hidden the unopened, perfume-drenched stack of her missives. "Listen, Mephis- Meffie, we're fine. Ceann and I have just been looking into the Orders for the past bit-"

"Oh, I know that," the white-winged succubus interrupted, glancing disdainfully over to the dullahan beside the door. "Your tin-clad pet has been much more diligent in sending reports of your activities, along with your requests for building materials." She turned back to John, her smile reemerging like the sun peeking around stormclouds. "I must say, this town is quite the wonder! We had discussed a project like this, but to see it actually realized is so exciting! And the next ones will be even easier, since we won't have to do so much building. We'll just have to take the towns back from the Orders." As she said the last, she turned to the side and stepped over to a side table, which was covered in a stack of papers John didn't recognize.

The haughty confidence in her voice made John chuckle. "That should be easy enough, right?"

Mephis turned back to him with a sharp smile of her own. "Actually, I have a few ideas regarding that right here." She glanced between the other two, who were listening intently. "It seems that the Orders are up to something big in this region, and it is in our best interest to put an end to it. Unfortunately, considering Kama's reports on their numbers in this area, I doubt we three will be able to handle this on our own." Her eyes danced with mischief as she held the papers out towards John. "But don't worry, I have plans for that as well."

John grinned as he accepted the sheaths of paper from the lilim, Ceann stepping up to his side. "Well, then. Let's get to work, shall we?" He glanced at the writing on the cap at one end of the scroll: _On the Nature of Incubi_.

And so the trio put their heads together, plotting to change the whole world a little at a time.

* * *

 _The battle was over now. Even the dead had been buried, at least the humans, and those who had once been human. Still, more than a day after the fighting had ended, the piercing odor of blood and charred flesh hung in the air, a choking miasma that warded off any who would draw near to the ground where men and women had fought and died. This land would be slow to forget the carnage that had occurred there, even after grass began to grow on the dozens of graves dug in grim formation._

 _In the heavens above, the sky was beginning to show the first signs of daylight, the earliest creeping glow from the east. It didn't seem right that such brilliance would emerge from that direction, would rise from the mountains that shielded the lands of the Demon King from sight. The armies of mankind had sought to cross those mountains, to take the fight to the monsters and their master, but all of their plans, all of their hopes, had been smashed in a single battle. Now, the survivors milled about in a daze, gripped by fear and confusion, even as their leaders fought the same emotions in their hearts and tried to inspire their soldiers with empty words._

 _Even the seven heroes that had led that battle were gripped by the same despair. They had been the ones to muster the armies of the various nations in one great push towards the Demon King's castle, hoping to end this eternal war in a single campaign. If they had managed to force the monsters' dark lord to emerge, then perhaps they could have challenged him, forced him to a final conflict that could have saved the world._

 _He had indeed emerged, and with only a token force of defenders, but things had not gone as they had planned. Instead, he had unleashed a new corrupt magic: a dark, vile mist that had spread among the human defenders, seeping into their ranks with startling swiftness. Then the changes had begun, as the soldiers had all cried out in terror and anguish, their bodies shifting and warping into new forms. In an instant, the glorious army of humanity had found itself outnumbered, as their fellow soldiers turned and mindlessly tore into their former allies, twisted into the shapes of monsters by the Demon King's evil magic._

 _Even the heroes themselves had nearly fallen. They had been surrounded by their former comrades, barely managing to preserve their own lives, as the mists had billowed towards them. If it hadn't been for the strong winds conjured by one of them, the entire force would have been damned to serve the Demon King's armies. They had narrowly escaped, but not without a price, and each of the seven young men had worn the marks of that knowledge on their faces as they had staggered to their beds the night before this one, exhausted beyond comprehension._

 _This night, however, slumber had been far more elusive for each of them. After the burials, they all warred with their own doubts and fears, conscious of what this battle had cost them, and those pains had pursued them that evening into their fitful sleep. Some dreamed about the faces of the men and women that had marched into battle with them, only to be twisted into hateful caricatures by the Demon King's spell. Other heroes dreamed of the plans they had made to end the war in one valorous charge, now vanquished by heartless reality and replaced by empty-minded uncertainty._

 _Paul Bernard, however, did not dream, because he could not sleep at all. He had spent the whole night lost in thought, in unanswered prayers and haunted meditation. He had been too conscious of what would happen if he tried to sleep, knew too well how the talons of regret would find him the second he relaxed. It was cowardice that kept him from his bed, he knew, but it had been pointless after all; his despair had chased him wherever he had gone, even here, to a hill overlooking the battleground far from the tents and smoldering campfires where those who could rest fought to keep their minds quiet._

 _"Mind the company?"_

 _Paul started at the familiar voice, and he glanced over to see the young man standing nearby. Even in the shadows of twilight, the silhouette was easily recognizable, with the floppy hat and zigzagging staff, so Paul nodded tersely to John Foster, who plopped down onto the ground a short distance away. Even now that they weren't alone, silence gripped the two young men for minutes that stretched long like the red streaks in the heavens above. They both stared down at the shadowed battlefield below, still scarred and scorched, and the memories they found there left them too sore to speak._

 _"We would have died without you, you know," Paul murmured finally, glancing over at his comrade. "Thank you."_

 _For once, the warlock didn't wear his easy smile, instead bitterly chuckling. "Yeah, well, if I had been faster, then maybe I wouldn't have had to kill so many of our own people." Both men remembered the moment when John had released a firestorm onto the forces of the monsters, including those that had formerly been human. That had turned the tides enough for them to survive the battle, even if the Demon King had abandoned the field before they could challenge him, leaving them with ashes and remorse._

 _"That wasn't your fault, John. You can't blame yourself for that." John glanced at Paul, surprised at the resolute insistence in the priest's voice. He looked towards Paul for a long moment, and Paul returned the gaze, hoping his expression could convey his belief better than his words. For not the first time, Paul regretted that he and John weren't exactly close; the warlock spent most of his time with Adam, their swordsman and unofficial leader, while Paul tended to keep more to the company of Theodric and Christophe. Secretly, Paul had always envied John for his magic; while he didn't question the will of his goddess, his ability to heal the wounded paled in his mind to the power to keep people from being hurt in the first place._

 _"I just wish I knew how to end this stupid war, so we could just go home. All of us. It's been two and a half years, and we're hardly any closer to being the great 'heroes' everyone thinks we are going to be." John sighed, resting his staff back against his shoulder. "But I can't even think of a way to stop him from using that same spell the next time, so how can I dream about winning?"_

 _"So your barrier spell won't work?" Paul asked, his heart sinking._

 _The warlock shook his head mournfully. "I… I'm not that powerful. None of us are. Even channeling that much power would be enough to destroy the person casting the spell, and while trying to cast it as a ritual with multiple people might succeed, it would still require an incredible power source. Divine magic might be better, but all of our priests are exhausted from healing the wounded, and I don't think the magic would work if it was being powered by multiple gods – if they even agreed to do it. Basically, casting that spell is too much for one person, and too complicated for many." His shadowed form seemed to shrink into itself as he curled forward. "I'll keep trying, but…"_

 _Paul nodded faintly, but his mind struggled to accept what he was hearing. He remembered what the Demon King's magic had done, and he shuddered to think about it being used on the cities further to the west. John had realized the spell fed off of the demonic mana that flowed from the east, and his plan had been to try to stop that flow from spreading so the transformative magic couldn't be used elsewhere. Still, if he had failed, then they would have to find another way. The alternative was too much to consider. A cold chill settled into Paul as he reconsidered John's words, and a different alternative posed itself to him. He had heard legends of a hero of a previous age who had cast a barrier to hold the monsters back, though it had cost him his life. With the help of his goddess, perhaps…_

 _A new silence descended onto the two men as they lost themselves in their own thoughts. Minutes later, whispered words broke the quiet. "Hey… do you believe in reincarnation?"_

 _John's head turned to face the priest at the soft sound of his voice. "I've heard the priests of Hel talking about it, but… I don't know. I try not to think about it, honestly. Why do you ask?"_

 _A delicate smile spread on Paul's lips. "I just think, sometimes… about what it would be like to live a life that isn't wrapped up in all of this. To not have to carry all this weight, to be normal and get married and worry about the weather instead of monsters." He glanced self-consciously over at the other boy. "Do you ever think about that?"_

 _John laughed, a sign of his usual humor returning. He shook his head, glancing in the direction of the camp where the other Heroes were sleeping. "I think we all do. It's not like any of us have ever even had a girlfriend- well, Christophe, but…" Both men winced at that, since they knew their friend still struggled with the death of his lover. That was one more tragedy of their journey, one more price they had paid to get to this point, for what little that was worth. "I know Adam would have been fine being a farmer, and I still would have studied magic, even if I didn't have to use it like…" He motioned towards the seared earth below._

 _"I don't regret being a chosen hero," Paul clarified. "I know it's for a good purpose, and that we could make the world better. I just…" He sighed, leaned back on his palms and looking up at the sky. "I just wonder what it would be like, living a new life, without having to worry about destiny and responsibility and war, all of this."_

 _The boy beside him chuckled at that, but his own expression was just as wistful as he, too, turned to the sky, staring at the fading stars past the drooping brim of his wizard's hat. "So," he opened after a pause, "if you did reincarnate, what would you want out of your new life?"_

 _Paul thought about it for minute before responding. "You know, I think I would like to study magic, like you," he admitted, his eyes still heavenward, missing the other boy's shocked glance. "Something quiet, but a way I could still make the world a better place. And I would want a girlfriend, of course. I'd like to live somewhere a bit flatter, so I wouldn't have to climb up and down a mountain constantly." He hesitated, his brow furrowed as he thought harder, but his expression eased into a broad smile. "And I would want a dog. A big, fluffy one."_

 _John laughed out loud, climbing to his feet. "I like it," he reassured the blonde-haired priest. "Who knows? Maybe you can have all of that still, once this war is over." The shadows of pre-dawn hid the frailty of Paul's smile at that sentiment. "When we go back after we kill the Demon King, we are going to be rich and famous, you know? You can buy yourself a library, and you will have girls chasing you everywhere you go! And then you can get as big of a dog as you want." His good-natured teasing made the priest laugh. Smiling down at him, John pointed his staff towards the camp where the other heroes were resting. "I'm going to go check on the others. The last I saw, Alex and Percy were arguing over what we should do next. I should make sure those two haven't woken the brat up with their bickering."_

 _Paul nodded up to him. "Go ahead, I'm going to stay out here a while." His hand strayed to his pocket, where he kept his journal. He had just enough light to write a few thoughts down, he knew, before… before he tried what he had in mind._

 _"Hey… are you alright?" John asked, glancing back to his friend. "You sound a little down. More than before, even."_

 _Paul shook his head, and the morning glow didn't betray the moisture on his cheeks. "I'm fine. You go ahead, I'm just going to sit here and think a bit."_

 _"Alright." John turned back, but glanced one final time at the other young man. "We'll figure something out, don't worry. Everything will work out in the end. Our destiny is to stop the Demon King, remember?"_

 _"I remember." Paul nodded towards the camp. "You'd better make sure they don't get into trouble. We need all of them to be at their best, if we're going to win this." Chuckling, John nodded, bidding him farewell once more, and Paul watched him go. He waited until he could see the warlock's silhouette against the campfire before he opened his journal and began to scribble a few words down, the thoughts and feelings coursing through him, and his acceptance of it all._

 _When that was done, he lowered the journal to the grass, but changed his mind and took off his black cloak, a gift from Father Barolo when he had left the little chapel on the mountain. He carefully wrapped the journal in that cloak and placed it down where he had been sitting, where John would look for him later. With that accomplished, he glanced down at his hand, at the owl sigil he had been given by his goddess as a sign of her blessing. "Give me the strength to accept this," he mumbled, his voice thick. He could see a hill nearby that loomed over the battlefield, where he would have a clear view of the eastern skies, where he could see the sun break over the mountains, where even the gods would be able to hear his voice. Steeling himself, Paul started to walk towards that hill, staring his destiny in the face as he ascended, certain that he finally understood his place and purpose. When he stood upon that hill, he turned to the east and smiled._

 _The young Priest died at dawn. However, that was really only the beginning of his story._

 **The End**

* * *

 ** _Author's Note:_** _And so it is done. Here I put to rest the second and last story I came up with the day I decided to start writing for the MGEverse once again. Many days have passed since then, and in the meantime I have come up with many stories more. Soon, I hope, I will begin writing the next – but now I need to work on planning._

 _As is my habit, I will briefly foreshadow the next story in my series. This one will be a different sort of experiment, as I strive to deal with three protagonists and their own love stories, but the fact that they are all familiar faces should help a great deal. Of course, I will also be showing what the Orders (and some other old enemies) have been up to in the meantime, and finally reveal some of their true intentions. Behold:_

 **Heroes**

As the monsters and humans of New Haven settle into their new home, they find that old enemies have chased them , a former monster hunter is asked to chase off a dangerous threat, but how can he stand up to a dragon alone? Features many returning monster girls, as well as several new ones!

 _Oh, and my other tradition: the naming conventions I used in this story. I include only those I can, because the truth behind some names would spoil storylines still to come._

 ** _The humans:_** _Simon was a fun one. Hopkins is the name of a famous witch hunter, which is what Simon essentially started out as. Likewise, Simon (now something of a magician) is a throwback to Simon Magus, only insomuch that he is a Simon who was connected with religion, but had a drastic falling out. Themras – forgive me – is an anagram of Mather, Cotton Mather specifically, who was involved in Salem's famed witch trials. The mercenaries all have names once common in Spain, where they are all from._

 ** _The monsters:_** _Regina is, of course, a reference to her role in Simon's life, as she is his Queen (and it's the feminine form of Rex, a common dog name). Likewise, Sarah's name is a play off her slightly submissive side, since that means 'Princess.' Sophia means 'wisdom,' which is fitting for the daughter of Athena, while Promachos was historically a name for the goddess herself, meaning 'She who fights in front.' Lyra is a poor bastardization of Lycan, which foreshadows her transformation, as does Wulfe, her grandfather's last name._

 _The others left unnamed – including the Heroes – will have to wait for a tale yet to come..._

 _With that said, it is time for me to rest, to think and plot and plan. My work never ends, and before you know it I will return with the next story to come. But, for now, thank you for coming this far with me. I hope you've enjoyed the journey so far, and feel free to let me know what you think. Thank you all, once again, and always._

 _And now, for that I have earned: a solid, peaceful sleep..._

 _~Wynn Pendragon_


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